


The House Wins

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Secrets, Father Figures, Friendship, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts First Year, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Slytherin, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin Harry Potter, Young Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 86,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What matters most to Lucius Malfoy is his family, and what matters second is power. He secures both when he decides to aid the Light at the end of the First Wizarding War.<br/>His decision doesn't change the ultimate fate of the Wizarding World, but it creates better lives for his family, and it opens new doors for many others, too.<br/>Most importantly, however, is the impact this new life has on his son, and how it improves his childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, clearly the boys are too young to be in a relationship yet.  
> This fic does include, however, some Remus/Sirius fluff and even some moments with Lucius and Narcissa.  
> Also, this is mostly Draco-oriented, though there are several POV switches.  
> Enjoy both Draco and Harry having happy childhoods (in comparison to living with Death Eater Lucius or the Dursleys), but don't expect everything to be perfect.  
> Thanks!
> 
> If you see any mistakes, feel free to point them out! I tend to miss some things, and I'm always learning. :)

It was a gloomy, cold day in June when Draco Lucius Malfoy was born. Screaming and crying, he was brought into a world of chaos and turmoil. Narcissa said that he was like a blessing, his newborn face a beam of light in the darkness of war. 

Of course, Lucius did not have the chance to see it. While his wife was in labour in their Manor, he was away in Scotland, torturing a family of blood traitors. 

The muggle mother was already dead, and the six year old child was shreiking in between sobs as Lucius cast the Cruciatus curse on his father. 

When he broke pause, the man broke through in a few strangled gasps to speak. 

"Don't you have a heart?" he choked, sprawled out on thr floor and bleeding from the inside. "A family?"

Lucius normally would have stepped on his throat and ended it there, but something had stopped him. He didn't know that his own son was being birthed that moment, but perhaps that unconscious knowledge was what prompted him to spare the blood traitor. 

"Yes," he snarled, peering down at the man like he was covered in scum. "Why?"

The child screamed as another Death Eater clamped its mouth shut. Tears streamed down the father's face as he listened, but could do nothing. By now, he was incapacitated from the pain of the curse.

"Then how can you live with this?" he sobbed, blood now trickling from his mouth. "Why do you want your child to live in a world where they could be subject to this kind of hate?" 

Lucius spat on the man. "My son will never spoil his bed with a Mudblood."

The man coughed, or perhaps it was laughter. His eyes were slowly glazing over, but he opened his mouth to speak.

"I-it doesn't matter. No matter which side wins, you'll lose. Your son will be born into hate."

Lucius crouched down closer to the man, making a show of pressing his wand into his throat. 

"What do you mean, I will _lose_?" he demanded, speaking slowly and carefully. He didn't know why he was listening to such drivel, but he knew he didn't want to lose. For himself and his son. 

"Voldemort doesn't care about you," the man answerd, his voice hoarser and growing faint. "If he wins, you and your son and your wife will be his play things. You will mean nothing to him." 

Despite his tough situation, the man was still smiling. As if there actually were light at the end of the tunnel.

Lucius pressed the wand harder into the man's neck. "Do you even know who I am?" He hissed. He cast a curse that would blind the wretched man with pain. He watched with satisfaction as more blood dripped from the man's mouth.

"Y-yes," the man grunted, to Lucius' surprise, through the convulsions of his writhing body. He was beginning to reek of burnt hair. "You're a Death Eater. And when the Light wins, you will be a criminal."

Lucius didn't know what to say. The man wasn't wrong. He cancelled the curse, waiting silently for the man to continue.

"Your son will be a criminal. And neither of you will... will..." He trailed off and took a deep, shuddering breath, and he finally stilled. 

The man was certainly dead, but his words echoed around in Lucius' ears like a ghost. They did not escape him, even when he returned to report to the Dark Lord. 

They did not escape him when he returned to his now four-hour-old son. He cradled the fragile figure in his arms, fearing for the small human's future. 

_We will what?_

* * *

 Lucius couldn't sleep after that, and it wasn't because of the crying baby--that was what servants and muffling charms were for. 

No, he was still haunted by the words of the blood traitor. What if his decisions and his alliances would eventually harm his son? That fragile, darling, screeching bag of flesh that would one day be his legacy. 

And what legacy could Lucius pass on? Money and land, of course... But also a position as a servant to the Dark Lord. Is that what he wanted?

For his son to be a servant?

But what could he do about it? There was nothing. He could not betray his Lord; it would mean death. Being ostracized by the Light, if they should win, was the least of his problems. He tried not to think about it.... They just _couldn't_ win. 

Or so he thought, until over one year and one month later, when five Death Eaters were killed, and two more had been tortured by Voldemort himself because they were "boring" him. 

The tides were tides were turning. Lucius saw how little he, as a follower, was valued by his Lord. He saw how easily he could be simply cast aside. Was that what he wanted for Draco?

His wife knew before he did. 

"What is the matter, Lucius?" she asked him one evening, as they were going to bed. "You have hardly slept, and when you are home, you seem at unease. Is it the baby?" 

He cursed himself for letting his discomfort slip. What if one of his comrades had noticed? 

But of course they hadn't. They were not his wife.

"Yes and no, my dearest," he replied at last. "I worry for our son. What kind of world is he being born into?"

She gave him a cautious glance. Surely, she knew what she meant... Or perhaps she hoped he meant what he did.

"What do you mean, my love?" she inquired softly, innocently. "It is the same world."

Irony laced her voice. He would have to be direct. 

"No, Narcissa," he sighed, loathe to admit his thoughts, "it is not. This is a world ruled by... by Voldemort." He shuddered at the word, at the implications of his thoughts. Did he really mean them?

"I thought you believed that to be good," she said quietly, an eyebrow raising inquisitively. Quieter, in a breath against his ear so as not to be overheard by others, she added, "Has your mind changed?"

More chills traveled down his spine. Dare he say it?

"Yes," he whispered, shutting his eyes. "I am fearful."

She pulled herself away, sitting up. "Then _do_ something," she insisted urgently, her light eyes sparkling with fear and anticipation. 

"But what _can_ I do?" he countered, just as fervently, just as nervously. "Is this Mark on my arm not a binding contract? Have my actions not sealed my fate?"

She scowled at him, her elegant face spoiled by the motion. He hoped that she would never have to scowl again... She looked so much better with a free face, a happy one.

"It does not matter, Lucius," she snapped. "You must not be a coward."

He flinched, taken aback. Such vulnerable displays were only acceptable in the bedroom, with Narcissa alone.

"You think me a coward?" he questioned softly, reaching out to touch her sweet face and soft golden hair.

She smacked his hand away, and he flinched in surprise.

"If you are afraid for any reason, and you refuse to confront the problem, you are a coward," she told him curtly, lying back down and facing away from him. 

He lie down as well, tucking his hands behind his head to stare at the ceiling in the dark. All he could feel was the slick silk of the sheets and the warmth of the body beside him, and the building sense of doom and purpose within him.

"Then how do I address the issue?" he begged her. "How do I remedy my cowardice?" He longed to reach out and touch her, to be comforted by her.

She did not stir, but her silence was answer enough. 

"Fine, then. I will make the visit tomorrow morning."

* * *

Disgust and revulsion gathered in Lucius' throat as he approached the household. The household of a mudblood and her blood traitor husband.

But it had to be done. For his son. 

He clung to the shadows at first, knowing he would not be welcome. He had learned the location of the Potter household from Peter Pettigrew--a coward if there ever was one, going to serve the Dark Lord out of petty revenge. He was no friend to any of them.

He was not surprised when he saw Dumbledore Apparate to their doorstep. He was immediately ushered into the house by the mudblood Lily Potter.

Lucius waited a few moments more before stepping out into the open. 

Immediately, several wards went off, and he was bombarded with triggered spells and explosions. He dodged each one, until at last they ceased. He dropped to his knees and sheltered his head, realizing too late that he was practically bowing. 

Another hex shot at him, landing just behind him. Two more shot at him, one landing straight in his gut. It was a stunning spell, thankfully, and nothing more. 

He crumpled to the ground, and James Potter rushed out of the house, Dumbledore chasing after him. 

"What are you doing here?" Potter demanded, brazen as ever. "How many more are there?" His voice was shaking like a mad man, a scared man.

Lucius did not raise his head. He was preparing to speak when Dumbledore interrupted. 

"James! Go back inside to your wife!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off of Lucius. "I will deal with this."

It was then that Lucius looked up, feeling defeated and more cowardly than ever. Why had he subjected himself to this?

"What do you want, Lucius?" Dumblrdore asked slowly. "You have come alone."

"I have come for help," he replied quietly, realizing how broken, how weak he sounded as he said it, staring up at the Headmaster.

The old man gave no response. Lucius decided he would have to elaborate, then. To further humiliate himself. 

"I wish to revoke my place as a Death Eater," he said through clenched teeth. "To secure my future."

It felt wrong. He was admitting mistake, admitting he had chosen the wrong side. 

Dumbledore, ever the soft soul, took a moment to consider his words all the same. As if he weren't laughing, judging, thinking _I told you so._

"I shall take you inside, but you will be bound. And questioned under Veritaserum."

Lucius nodded, accepting his fate. 

"So it shall be," he whispered, and tensed as the ropes came from Dumbledore's wand and tied his wrists and ankles. To further the humiliation, Dumbledore cast _Levicorpus_ and floated him into the house.

"What is this?" Potter demanded, once Lucius had been brought inside and deposited on a chair. "We're just letting them all in now?"

Them, of course, being Death Eaters. What else should Potter have expected?

Lucius scoffed at him. "I am bound hand and foot, Potter," he pointed out with a snarl. "I would hardly call this a warm welcome." He made a show of flexing against the ropes, proving he could not escape.

Potter raised his wand, fear and rage burning in his eyes. 

"Shut _up_!" he cried, stumbling backwards. "You're a monster!"

Lucius felt a pang of regret. How sad that he had thought he could have been allies with these people. They were truly blind.

"He has come to redeem himself," Dumbledore told Potter firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to sit down. "We cannot turn down a man willing to repent."

Lucius was going to object, and protest that he had said nothing about repenting...

But perhaps he had, more or less.

"Allow me to speak, Potter," he insisted, false graciousness lacing his words. "I'm not here to harm you."

Potter grimaced. "Let's see if you sing the same tune under Veritaserum," he growled, crossing his arms and glaring.

Dumbledore pulled a clear vial from his pocket, and ordered Lucius to open his mouth. Four drops hit his tongue, and he immediately felt the effects. 

"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked him. 

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy."

"Are there any others with you?" Potter demanded. 

"I come alone."

"And why are you here?" Dumbledore asked.

Lucius nearly choked, but the words came out all the same. 

"To save my son."

Potter's eyebrows shot up. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Lucius felt disinclined to tell, as he was disliking Potter more and more by the minute, but his tongue was loose now and could not be stopped. 

"I cannot allow my son to be the servant of the Dark Lord, nor can I allow him to suffer punishment for my deeds should your side win," he whispered, hating that he had admitted this. But he had to.

Before he could stop himself, he added, "I wish to fight for your side." 

Potter coughed as if he had choked on something. "I'm sorry. You _what_?"

Lucius sighed internally. He would have to say it again. 

"I do not wish to remain a Death Eater. I will take to the Light," he elaborated, speaking slowly.

Potter blinked. "No." He looked terribly stupid, frozen by doubt.

There was a gasp, and the red-haired mudblood Potter came into the room.

"James!" she exclaimed, glaring at him in a scolding manner. Would she defend Lucius?

Potter stood up. "We can't trust him, Lil! He's a Death Eater," he protested, pointing at Lucius as if the picture of his presence was proof enough.

The Potter woman crossed her arms. "A Death Eater under Veritaserum!" she retorted, having stated the obvious. "He can't lie to us, James. I think he's being honest."

Potter gaped and stuttered like a goldfish. 

"B-but... He could have been trained to overpower it!" 

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Enough, James," he commanded. "I agree with Lily. I believe Lucius is not lying to us."

"But--"

Lilly Potter cut him off. "People change for their children, James." She spoke softly, something in her eyes that said she spoke from experience.

It was then that Lucius noticed the woman was carrying a child. Of course he knew that she had one... The Dark Lord had been making plans regarding the child. Because of the prophecy.

The Veritaserum, for some reason, forced him to say this aloud.

"The Dark Lord will come for your child. He knows this house," he informed them, breaking the silence.

"Cleary," Dumbledore agreed calmly, "as you are here right now."

Potter scowled, but he looked terrified. "Who told him where we live? Snape?" he demanded, eyes wide open. 

"James!" his wife interjected. "He doesn't even know!"

"Peter Pettigrew," Lucius said cooly, ignoring them. "Is he not your secret keeper?" 

The three exchanged horrified glances, and all made exclamations of objection. 

"We just made the switch!"

"We trusted him! He's our friend!"

"Not Peter!"

Lucius shook his head. "Pettigrew has betrayed you. The Dark Lord comes to kill you and your child. I know not when."

"Why didn't Snape tell us?" Potter spluttered. His wife, concerned and growing pale, moved to sit down with him.

"The Dark Lord does not trust him." Lucius clenched his teeth. "And now, he will not trust me, either."

"You have risked much in telling us this," Dumbledore commended him, sounding not altogether honest.

"In the hopes that it will benefit my son and myself," he replied stiffly.

"What can we do for you?" Lilly Potter asked him softly, staring with green eyes full of sympathy. The child in her arms hiccuped, oblivious to the dark news being discussed around him. 

"Protect my family," Lucius said earnestly. "Find us a place where Voldemort will not seek us out until he is vanquished. Protect our name when the war is over. In return, I will tell you everything."

Potter set his jaw and glared. 

"Tell us everything, then, Malfoy."

And so Lucius complied. It was better than begging.

He told them everything he knew regarding Voldemort. He warned them as well as he could, sharingwitg  them all of his Lord's plans that he knew of. But, in the end, it was not enough to save the Potters. 

The next day, Dumbledore came to Malfoy Manor bearing dark news. Just hours after Lucius left, Voldemort came and killed Lilly and James Potter, the boy having defeated the Dark Lord. A mere babe.

But, the testimony was enough to save _his_ family. Dumbledore assured him that Lucius would be cleared of his crimes, and would be offered full legal protection. His information had allowed them to apprehend Peter Pettigrew, and prevent Sirius Black from a life in Azkaban. 

Narcissa had asked what would become of the Potter boy.

"He has blood relatives to offer him protection," Dumbledore explained, "but they are Muggles, and they will not take him in. The boy will stay with his godfather, Sirius Black." 

Narcissa laughed at that. "My cousin? Raising a child? He can hardly take care of himself." She shook her head as if she could hardly believe it to be true. 

Dumbledore only smiled. "He will have help, rest assured," he said solemnly. "But that is not your concern."

Lucius had thought that was the end of the conversation. He had hoped he would get off easy; he couldn't believe his luck, or his timing. So little work on his part, and yet he had achieved all his goals. Had he been one day later, his confession would have been useless. 

But it was not so. There was more he had to do. Dumbledore had a contract for him. 

Lucius and his wife, in order to remain in good graces and pay fir their crimes, would have to change many things. 

They would revoke their Dark Artifacts, and refrain from all Dark Arts. 

They could not maim, kill, or torture anyone.

They would perform regular acts of public service, or charitable donations. 

Lucius would work at the Ministry, so they could keep a close eye on him.

And, worst of all, they would refrain from "hateful words or actions" towards mudbloods.

It was a small price to pay, however, for the safety and benefit of his son. He would grow up in a safer world. And it wouldn't hurt that Lucius would work for the Ministry--he had always wanted to go inti politics.

And the contract was not so binding. Who was Dumbledore to know if they slipped up once or twice or more?

They both signed the contract, knowing that they were left much better off doing so than if they hadn't. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was Draco's seventh birthday. Six years since Narcissa and Lucius had signed the contract. 

Lucius had obtained a job at the Ministry, and he was slowly but surely moving up the ranks. Currently, he was the vice head of the trading branch of the Trading branch of International affairs. But today was his day off, because he was going to celebrate with his wife and son. 

Draco sat in one of the large wood-carved chairs next to the table. It was too big for him, and his feet dangled a foot above the ground. But a huge smile was plastered on his tiny face, and he hummed quietly to himself as he played with one of the forks on the table. The room was being filled with the scent of biscuits baking. 

Narcissa spoiled him with treats like that, but it was alright. Their son deserved only the best. 

Lucius strode into the room, startling his little boy with his appearance. He was still in his sleeping robes (because why the hell not? It was his day off). Draco, on the other hand, was perfectly groomed and dressed for his big day. 

"What's the occasion, Draco?" Lucius inquired teasingly, knowing fully well what all the fuss was about. He sat down next to his son, who was buzzing with excitement. 

"It's my birthday!" he exclaimed. Then, after a concerned pause, he asked, "Did you forget?" Surprise and betrayal lined his face.

Lucius didn't change his expression. "Of course not, dragon. I'm not at work, am I?" He inquired, allowing a smirk to form on his lips.

Draco dropped the fork he was fiddling with. Apparently, he still had yet to discern when his father was teasing him or not.

"Right," he mumbled, staring down at the fork. 

Narcissa entered the room, carrying glasses of fresh juice from the orchards. She set them down on the table and sent Lucius a glare. 

"Don't toy with him, Lucius," she ordered quietly. "Wish your son a happy birthday."

Lucius returned to her a scowl, but pulled a wrapped box out of his robes and handed it to his delighted son. 

"Happy birthday, dragon." 

Draco nearly squealed, but knew better and composed himself.... Before bursting into a fit of giggles that flushed his cheeks bright red, that was. Narcissa and Lucius both joined him in doing so. 

Since signing the contract, his life had been filled with surprising mirth. He still felt young, and felt younger each day, which was something he had never expected while serving the Dark Lord. Now, his home and work were separate environments, and he was free to be joyous and, well, outright silly around his child. 

At the Ministry, there were no life or death decisions. He thought he would miss torturing his adversaries, but every day free of violence was a weight lifted off his shoulders. The worst work got was having to work with Arthur Weasley every once in a while or suffer through the annual Muggleborn Appreciation Day.

But, overall, he was... Happy. 

Even if it meant his former peers and allies despised him for turning traitor. 

He was safe, and his son and wife were happy, and that was what mattered. 

"May I open it?" Draco asked, turning the green parcel in his hands. 

Just then, a ward sounded in Lucius' head. Someone was at the door. 

"In a minute, Draco," he assured him, standing up. "Someone is at the door."

He did not care that he was still in his night robes. Whoever it was, he was certain they were not so important that they couldn't see him in his night robes, in his own home. That was yet another thing that had changed about him: he no longer had copious amounts of foolish pride. 

He apparated to the door, and it swung open at his command. 

And there was Albus Dumbledore, completely unaffected by Lucius' overly casual state. Nothing could surprise him.

"Good morning, Lucius," he remarked cooly. "You look well. Might I step inside? I smell something wonderful cooking."

Lucius blinked. "Of course, Albus. We were in the middle of celebrating my son's seventh birthday," he informed him, leading him into the home. "I do hope you'll forgive my dress; I was not expecting company."

"Of course," the Headmaster laughed, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I have seen much worse--in fact, I would have never guessed you were _not_ in suitable attire."

Lucius rolled his eyes, hoping the old man didn't notice. Of course he couldn't tell; he hardly wore anything other than curtains. Or, so it looked.

"You flatter me, sir."

"Of course not. They are better robes than most men should ever hope to wear." Dumbledore countered, apparently recognizing fine silk when he saw it. "Though, I do wonder why you weren't expecting company on the boy's birthday?" He added slyly.

Lucius sighed, lingering at the doorway before they joined Draco and Narcissa. "Very few people in our old social circles would desire to associate with us or our son," he confessed. "And just as few in our new ones." 

Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Does Draco not have many friends?" he asked, peering into the room where the little boy was back to playing with the fork and butter knife. He was completely ignoring his juice.  

"A few," Lucius replied stiffly. "It's a private celebration regardless. You may stay, of course," he added quickly. Disrespecting Dumbledore would certainly not be an advantageous move in his position.

Dumbledore frowned. "That's concerning, Lucius," he remarked, a warning lining his tone. "He leaves to go to Hogwarts in four years, and he doesn't know how to socialize?"

"My son can socialize perfectly well," Lucius answered him stiffly, narrowing his eyes.

"Of course, of course," Dumbledore replied hastily. "I only meant that perhaps it is better that he has an established friend circle _before_ he leaves home. It can be quite traumatizing, feeling alone," he replied quietly. There was a chilling gravity to his voice that did not match the twinkle in his eye. 

"Well, then, shall we sit?" Lucius inquired with the slighest unease.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "I should love to."

Dumbledore had visited their home several times to ensure they were holding up to the contract, and that in return they were being treated fairly. Of course he would be concerned wether or not Draco had friends.

"Draco, don't play with the silverware," Lucius chided, sitting down back at his place next to the boy. "Say hello to Professor Dumbledore."

Draco set down his silverware. "Hullo. You're not my professor yet, though. Not for"--he counted on his fingers--" _four_ more years!"

Dumbledore smiled so the wrinkles on his face deepened, and sat down opposite of the boy. "But I'm still a professor," he replied stubbornly.

Draco shook his head. "Not today. Today's my birthday." He pursed his lips with determination, as if being the birthday boy changed everything. 

The old professor laughed again. "Well, happy birthday, young man. Do you have any exciting plans?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

He was good with children, Lucius noted. No wonder he was at Hogwarts.

"Mother is baking biscuits. And then I get to open gifts." He picked up the box Lucius had given him and showed it to Dumbledore, a little pridefully.

He picked it up and held it to his ear. "My, it sounds lovely. What is it, Draco?" he asked.

Draco snatched it back. "I don't know yet! Don't tell me!" He cried defensively, cradling the box to his chest. 

Then, Narcissa entered the room carrying a plate of bisciuts, which Draco claimed to be the only food he would eat on his birthday. She smiled warmly at Dumbledore. 

"Hello, Albus," she greeted. Turning to Draco, she added, "Drink your juice, little dragon."

Albus poured himself a glass. "I will have some, Draco. Why don't we have a toast?" 

Draco shook his head. "I don't want toast. Not on my birthday," he protested, pouting his lips.

Dumbledore laughed, lifting his glass. "Well, cheers to that, I suppose." 

Lucius rolled his eyes and clinked juice glasses with the batty old professor. Confused, Draco followed suit. 

"This is toasting, dear," Narcissa told him quietly, clinking his glass and taking a sip out of her own.

"It's drinking, though," mumbled Draco, taking the glass with both hands and guzzling until it was empty. "See? Done. Can I have a chocolate biscuit now?"

"Bad manners, Draco," Lucius reminded him. 

"Sorry. May I _please_ have a biscuit?" he inquired, making the pouting face that they so often tried to discourage.

Lucius sighed. He had meant the guzzling, but he handed the boy the plate anyway.

Several house elves came in then, carrying plates of herbed eggs, seasoned vegetables, and what smelled like pheasant. It was for the adults, of course, and a bit for Draco if they were lucky. 

The house elves were treated much better now, compared to before the contract. And why shouldn't they? Lucius hardly had a temper to take out on them anymore. 

"Thank you, Lolly, Filly," Narcissa said, taking the serving plates from them and setting them on the table. 

Dumbledore took the other from the other elf with a polite thanks. He served himself a small portion of eggs, and took several biscuits as well.

He cleared his throat. "Draco, do you have many friends?" he asked him, cutting into the eggs. 

Lucius watched them carefully as he filled his plate the vegetables and the pheasant. His wife pretended to ignore them as she served herself, taking particular interest in arranging her plate perfectly. 

Draco finished chewing up his third biscuit, completely ignoring the savory food. 

"Er, yeah!" he mumbled enthusiastically, taking yet another sweet. "Sometimes I play with Blaise. He has a new dad, did you hear?" 

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I had not. Do you have any other friends?" he inisisted. 

Draco stopped eating, visibly pausing to think. "Pansy, but she's a girl, and her parents don't like Father. They say mean things." He frowned and inspected his next biscuit before taking a bite. "But I play with the peacocks sometimes, when they're being nice and don't bite."

Dumbledore nodded sagely, taking the boy's words into considerstion. "Would you like it if I introduce you to some other little boys?" he asked. He gave Lucius a look, and added, "Their parents shouldn't mind your father."

Draco just about dropped his biscuit. 

"Could you?" he inquired, excitement swimming in his little gray eyes. 

Lucius took a bite of bitter greens. He didn't like the idea of his son associating with anyone Dumbledore reccomended, as they surely would be people that, at least at one time, had hated Lucius. But it would be best for Draco, he rationalized, and perhaps it would serve to heal bitter wounds.

"He most certainly can, Draco," Lucius assured him, exchanging a look with Narcissa. 

Dumbledore smiled widely. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "I shall be back tomorrow morning at ten. In the meantime, may I take a few biscuits to go? They really are excellent, Narcissa." He stood to leave, stuffing a few biscuits into his pockets. 

Narcissa blinked, unable to stop him. "Of course. Draco won't mind sharing."

Draco shook his head. "Take some! Only if you get me friends, though," he chirped, taking another bite of food.

"He's picking up on your negotiation skills, Lucius," Dumbledore winked, exiting the room. 

Draco was buzzing with excitement. "May I open the presents now?"

* * *

The next morning, Draco could hardly keep still. He had nearly forgotten his gifts, and biscuits were the last thing on his mind. Lucius wished he could still achieve that blissful excitement of youth. 

"Draco, don't forget your manners," Narcissa told him, waiting with him in the foyer. His fingers nervously clutched the amulet Lucius had given him the day before. 

"As if he'll need them," Lucius scoffed. "Given the kind that flocks to Dumbledore, they'll most likely have none of their own."

Narcissa slapped him on the arm. "Hush. We can always be the bigger people."

Draco frowned. "I'm not very big, though. What if he's bigger than me?" he asked, suddenly looking concerned. He desperately clung to Lucius' hand. 

"That will be the least of our problems," he murmured, giving Draco's hands a little squeeze. "I wonder who Dumbledore will bring?"

The wards rang. 

"Speak of the devil," Narcissa quipped. 

Lucius rolled his eyes at the muggle expression. She had begun using it after he had quoted one of the muggleborns at work, who used it seemingly every time Lucius bore near. 

He opened the door. Standing in front of him was Dumbledore, and a slight, dark-skinned, and mop-headed little boy with green eyes. Behind them were two men he just barely recognized. 

"Cousin Sirius?" Narcissa gasped, gaping at the men in the door. 

"In the flesh," the blood traitor-- _n_ _o, I of all people mustn't call anyone traitor_ \--smirked. "And this is Remus Lupin, and the little one is Harry."

Narcissa nodded. "I recall hearing you would raise the boy. And Remus is helping?" she inquired, peering at the other man with narrowed eyes. "He hasn't a mother figure?"

Lupin blushed profusely. "We do what we can."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Lovely." At least they were trying. 

Dumbledore grinned. "Well, I'll be off. You can introduce the boys to one another?" He didn't even wait for a response, and simply apparated away. 

Lucius moved his focus away from Lupin and black, and looked down at his son and the Potter child. They were both staring at each other silently. Potter had retreated, now with Dumbledore gone, to hide behind the two other men. Wasn't he a bit old to be so shy?

"Say hello, Draco," Lucius suggested, giving his son a gentle push. 

Draco took a step over. "Hullo. I'm Draco. Why are you hiding?" he asked Potter. 

At that, the other boy stepped out from behind the adult. "I'm not hiding. Padfoot says Gryffindors don't hide," he insisted, gazing up at Black for support. He offered none, hanging back and watching cautiously. 

"Well, you were hiding. So I guess you're not a Gryffindor," Draco countered innocently. 

However, both Harry and Sirius looked extremely affronted. Narcissa apparently sensed this, and interjected. 

"Well, it's a good thing that you haven't been sorted yet." She laughed lightly. "Why don't we all come inside for some tea, and the boys can get to know each other?" She inquired, leading them all in. 

"An excellent idea, darling," Lucius agreed, taking her by the arm. He saw Black smirk and do the same thing with Lupin. The little boys trailed behind. 

"So," Black asked, "I hear you've gotten rid of all the Dark artifacts here?" 

Narcissa nodded, glancing over her shoulder. "Yes, we have. It's been a complete turn around for us, but the past six years have been lovely," she replied, giving Lucius a genuine smile. 

"Absolutely wonderful," he agreed. "I work for the Ministry now, you know," he added, attempting friendly small talk.

"Oh, well that gives me hope for the country," Black scoffed ambiguously. It was either a joke or a jab, and Lucius couldn't quite tell.

"Make an effort, Sirius!" Lupin hissed, elbowing Black. "For Harry." So, it had been a jab.

"What about me?" The Potter boy piped up, taking Lupin's hand. 

"Nothing, love," Lupin replied warmly. Like a father might, Lucius noted. 

Narcissa led them all into the sun room, and invited them to sit down. Draco immediately made himself comfortable on a cushion next to the window, and basked in a sun beam. 

"Sit with me, Harry!" he called, patting the spot next to him. The other boy looked reluctant to leave Lupin and Black, but he eventually gave in to the warm invitation of the sunlight. 

Narcissa called over a house elf to prepare tea, and then sat with Lucius across from the other men. 

"So, what have you two been doing since the War?" she inquired, ever so graciously. 

Lupin shared a glance with the other man, communicating silently and coming to some unspoken agreement. They clasped hands. 

"Raising Harry," they both said quickly. Too quickly. 

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, and Lucius shot her a curious glance. The corner of her lip twitched, in a nonverbal _Leave it to me; I'll get them to talk._

Oh, how it had all changed. At one time, that slight smirk would have meant they were about to _Crucio_ someone. 

"And what a lovely child he is." She gave them a sugar-sweet smile. "What does he like to do? Perhaps we can find an activity they can both enjoy... Before they get bored?" She glanced over at the children.

The two boys were currently whispering to each other fervently. Draco was pointing out the window--probably spinning some elaborate tale to impress his guest. 

Both of the men spoke at the same time.

"Oh, if Draco is telling a story, Harry will listen for hours," Lupin said, glancing at the children with a fond smile. 

"He likes flying," Black said over him. 

Lucius raised both eyebrows. "Well, Draco will certainly talk as long as you let him. They can try the brooms later."

"They seem happy," Narcissa commented. Getting to the point, she asked, "Now, what do you two enjoy? Do either of you work?" 

Of course, Lupin didn't work. Lucius remembered that he was a werewolf; no one civil would hire him. And Black was sitting on enough money that he never _needed_ to work anyhow. 

"We just raise Harry," Black replied, still unwilling to elaborate. 

Lucius leaned back to watch the interaction continue. His wife would make them talk.

Narcissa tilted her head. "Surely you have hobbies? You can't spend all your time with your..." She trailed off, finding a polite way to put it. "Do you call him your son?" she asked hesitantly. "Or, rather, which of yours would you say he is?" She spoke cheerily, but Lucius thought she might be stepping onto sensitive ground. 

Lupin cleared his throat. "Sirius is his godfather, but we're both his parents. For lack of a better term. He calls us by our nicknames," he explained tentatively. 

"Oh, so you _are_ in a relationship, then?" Narcissa inquired, perhaps breaching her delicacy. "Or does it only extend to parenting Harry?"

Black set his jaw, and placed his arm around Lupin, as if he were trying to be defiant. 

"More than just parenting," he said firmly. "But we keep it mostly private, there are _some people_ who might be opposed to it." He gave them a challening look.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, deciding to show that they weren't 'some people'. "That's no issue to Narcissa and I, in case you were wondering," he said clearly. It was only a half lie. 

After all, for their relationship to work, he had to show them he was not a completely close minded arse. Besides, he wasn't being entirely disingenuous. He was certainly more comfortable with wizard and wizard than wizard and _muggle_.

"Really?" Black almost choked. 

Lucius shrugged. "Certainly. It does not affect us. Nor does it affect our son," he added with emphasis. Draco and Harry mattered more in this situation. 

Narcissa nodded curtly. "Of course," she agreed, though her lip curled in ambivalence. It most likely mattered to her, though she had more sense than to say it. A thoughtful expression passed over her face, and she added, "Though, I am curious... How have you kept Harry out of the papers? He _is_ the Boy Who Lived, after all."

"It's no issue," Lupin replied. "We keep away, and if they don't leave us be... Well, if you have someone like Sirius telling you to leave it be, you leave it be." He chuckled softly to himself, as if this were some kind of inside joke. 

Then, by the window, the Potter boy screamed. 

Black stood up inmediately. "What's wrong, Harry?" He demanded, spinning around to check on his 'son'. 

They all looked over, only to find both of the boys lying on their backs and cackling from laughter. 

"I think it's time to go outside and fly brooms," Lucius suggested, standing up to escort the boys out, where they could release any pent up energy. 

Draco just cried out in delight, and Harry joined in. 

"Inside voices, boys."

 _They would make for a wonderful duo_ , Lucius thought, _if they behave themselves._

Which, knowing how Potters were, they wouldn't.

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Mother, when is Harry coming back?" Draco asked, staring over the table at Lucius and Narcissa with pleading eyes. 

Lucius sighed. It had been over a week since the Potter boy and his guardians came to visit. Since then, every interaction with Draco had been _Harry_ this and _Harry_ that. 

Which Lucius found to be most unfortunate. Harry Potter had proven to be quite inadequate company, at least in Lucius' opinion. The boy hardly spoke, and the only thing he had participated in was racing Draco on the toy broom.

It was probably enough to win his son over, though. They had taken turns on the broom, and one would chase after the other on land. Toy brooms were terribly slow, and they never went very far above ground, so the competition was usually even.

All the same, it wasn't as though it had been all that stimulating. Draco knew other children he played the same game with, too. Surely there were more productive things a seven year old child would want to do. 

Narcissa sighed and set down her fork. "I don't know, Draco. Cousin Sirius hasn't returned any owls yet." She gave Lucius a concerned look.

She had written Sirius and Remus two letters since the visit, inviting them and Harry back. They weren't writing back, which was merely another testament to their poor manners. 

"Can't we just floo them?" Draco demanded, starting to sound upset. "I've seen Father floo people before. And we floo places, too! Remember that time we flooed to Diagon Alley, Father?" He looked between both of his parents, distracted for a moment.

Lucius bit the inside of his cheek before he said anything uncalled for. _Never again,_ he thought.The reaction they had gotten from flooing into the Leaky Cauldron had been most unpleasant, even if Draco was too young to know what had been going on. 

He took the opportunity to distract his son. Sometimes, dealing with Draco was a little too much like politics at work. 

"We could go to Diagon Alley again," he suggested. "I could buy some ingredients and teach you some new potions."

Draco sighed, and rested his chin on his hand. " _Bor_ -ing." He sighed, slumping over. "I want to see Harry again!"

"Sit up at the table, Draco," Narcissa ordered, shooting Lucius a look that said, _Do something_. 

Lucius cleared his throat and busied himself with cutting into his food. 

"Draco," he said, "shall we invite Blaise over? You haven't seen him in a while."

Ms. Zabini had never allied herself to the Dark Lord. At the time, she had been married to a Light Wizard--though obviously, things had changed since then. Nevertheless, she was happy for her son to spend time with Draco.

It was a shame, really, that so few wizarding families wanted to interact with them. There were few enough children Draco's age as it was; very few people had children during that time of the War. And even less surprised.

But, limited options aside, Lucius thought that they shouldn't pursue the Potter boy if his guardians were against it. Surely the Zabini boy would be suitable anyhow?

Draco shook his head. "No. He's no fun. And last time, he made fun of my drawings!" he cried, frowning as he turned away from his gaze. 

Lucius sighed in defeat. It wasn't as if he could force his son to interact with a boy _who made fun of his drawings._

Narcissa took a moment to glance between father and son, apparently deciding Lucius had done all he could do. 

"Why don't you write Harry a letter, then?" She inquired helpfully. "Perhaps he will listen to you."

Draco beamed. "Can I?" he asked, not waiting for a response as he hopped from his seat and dashed into the next room over. 

Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"Let's see Sirius say no to _that_." 

* * *

The response came a day later. One letter for Draco, from Harry, and one for Narcissa, from Sirius. 

Narcissa shared her letter with Lucius, and it read as so: 

 

> _Dearest Cissy,_
> 
> _You had your son send a letter? Really? Are you that desperate to see us again?_
> 
> _Regardless, it worked. Harry's been talking nonstop about his new friend. When he saw that he got a letter from him... Well, let's just say that I had believed that kind of excitement was reserved for Hogwart's acceptance letters._
> 
> _And so, as dry as your husband's company may be, Remus and I would hate to dissapoint Harry._
> 
> _I suppose I do owe you some thanks. I could have gone to Azkaban for James' and Lily's death had Lucius not said anything._
> 
> _I wonder what the Potters would say about all this..._
> 
> _Anyhow. We've nothing planned this week. How does one o' clock Wednesday sound? Draco can stay at our home for the afternoon._
> 
> _See you then._
> 
> _\--Sirius Black_
> 
>  

"Well, isn't that lovely," Narcissa hummed. At least _she_ enjoyed the letter. 

Lucius scoffed, still staring at the parchment. "Me? Dry company?" he repeated.

His wife chuckled and patted him on the arm. "Luckily, you're working Wednesday. I'll drop Draco off, and you won't have to deal with my cousin," she reminded him. 

Something told him she still wasn't pleased about her cousin's lover. They had had a conversation about it, wherein he convinced her Draco would be in no danger of being around a gay couple. She only conceded when she decided she wouldn't let Draco alone with the two men.

In all honesty, Lucius was more concerned about leaving Draco with a blood traitor and a werewolf than the fact that they were lovers. But he couldn't say that, of course, and Dumbledore's judgment reminded him he couldn't complain.

After all, how would they feel about leaving their son (the Boy Who Lived, no less) with former Death Eaters?

"The things we do for our son..." he muttered to her, only half meaning it. 

Draco scampered into the room, a picture of boyish delight. He was glowing with excitement and blushing with joy.

"Harry drew me a picture!" he cried, waving a piece of parchment in the air.

 _Children_. Lucius would never understand. 

* * *

Cousin Sirius' house was certainly smaller than the Manor. Draco was simply happy that he had gotten to take the floo to get there, and didn't seem to care about the size difference. But Narcisa did.

She supposed she had simply never thought Sirius would live so humbly. He could have chosen any of the Black Estates to live in, and instead he rebuilt the small Godric's Hollow to raise a child in. 

Remus and Sirius were waiting for them by the fireplace, wrapped around each other (to Narcissa's distaste). Young Harry was waiting expectantly, sitting on the floor with crossed legs and a straight spine.

"Hi," said quietly, looking up at her with big green eyes. 

"Hello, Harry," Narcissa greeted warmly. "Draco will be through in a minute," she promised him. 

When Draco came in after her, Harry rose to his feet to greet him.

Remus rose as well, and Narcissa bit back a scowl as he greeted her. She reminded herself to try not to care so much about the fact he was her cousin's lover. For Draco, she would have to be kind and make the friendship work.

"Thanks for bringing him over, Narcissa," Remus said, standing to shake her hand. Sirius grudgingly followed suit. 

"Glad to see the old man isn't here, too," Sirius muttered drily, looking around the room as if Lucius were about to spring out behind a wall and hex him.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't be so ungrateful, Cousin," she warned him.

A few feet closer to ground, Harry and Draco were conversing quietly. 

"We have a swing," Harry told him.

"What's a swing?" Draco asked, spinning in a circle peering around the room as if he could spot it.

"Moony, can I show Draco the swing?"

Remus chuckled. "Go on! We'll be inside if you need anything. You're big enough to play on your own." 

The two little boys hurried out the door. 

Narcissa watched them go, wondering as well what a swing was. It was probably a muggle invention. 

"Shall we sit?" she inquired, inviting herself onto the sofa. 

They sat down on the other side of her, looking to be at another loss for words. 

"Why Godric's Hollow?" she questioned, wondering if perhaps this was the same room where Lucius had been bound and under Veritaserum as he turned away from the Dark Lord. 

Remus shrugged. "We wanted Harry to have as normal of a childhood as possible. It's what Lily and James would have wanted." He glanced over at his partner.

"Not to mention Grimmauld Place is a wreck," Sirius chuckled. "You can't raise a child in a house infested with boggarts and doxies." 

Narcissa raised both eyebrows. Had she been the one to inherit the estate, it wouldn't have fallen to decay. 

"Fair enough," she conceded, deciding not to discuss the state of the old house. "Does Harry like it here?"

"Very much," Remus assured her. 

"There's a few other wizarding families about for Harry to play with, and we make it cozy enough here," Sirius elaborated.

Narcissa took a moment to observe the room she was in. It certainly lacked a woman's touch, but it was tidy. The hardwood floor was decorated with an old black and gold rug in front of the fireplace, which was decorated with lions. There was a small coffee table stacked with books and Harry's drawings. 

It smelled like chamomile, oddly enough, and the walls were adorned with photographs of the Potters, but more predominately with puctures of Harry, Remus, and Sirius. 

"It is rather nice, isn't it?" she said at last, giving them a polite smile. 

Remus nodded. "It is. We're not home to often to enjoy it, though," he added, looking at Sirius as if asking him to continue. 

"Oh?" She hoped they didn't leave Harry home alone....

Sirius shifted. "We like to take Harry places. Work odd jobs all over Europe, pretend we're vagrants. They know us pretty well at the Portkey office," he chuckled, slinging an arm around Remus.

_Vagrants? Why on earth would they want to pretend to be vagrants?_

"I'm afraid I can't see the appeal. Why not stay here?" she inquired. If it was so nice at Godric's Hollow, if it was what the Potters wanted, and Harry loved it so much, why leave?

"He's Harry Potter, for fuck's sake. And we're two gay wizards," Sirius grumbled. "We can't stay in Britain, or any place, very long. Otherwise, Harry wouldn't be left alone. The press would be all over us."

Remus nodded gravely. "It's the closest he can get to normal. And, at least he's cultured."

Narcissa frowned. That didn't sound like the best way to raise a child.

"Does he have many friends?" she questioned. She looked out the window, and saw Draco sitting on a plank of wood that was swinging through the air, tied by two ropes to a tree branch. Harry was pushing him.

"A few," Remus said absently, watching them from the window as well. "He sees the Longbottom boy sometimes, and he makes a friend or two wherever we go." 

"Well," said Narcissa, "Draco would be most happy to be a more permanent friend."

Both of the men snickered.

"We gathered as much, from his letter," Remus said, grinning. "Didn't you read it?"

She shook her head. 

Sirius chuckled. "More or less, it said that he didn't care if Harry was a Gryffindor or not; he wanted to he his _friend forever_." He spoke in a mocking, falsetto voice that did not appeal to Narcissa.

She smiled all the same, not at all shocked by her son's eagerness. Of course he had said that. She wondered what Lucius would think... She hoped he realized soon that being friendly with Harry Potter had more advantages than not. Even she would have to get over her prejudices.

"He stuck it to his wall," said Remus. "Not many things make it to his wall."

"I'm happy, then," Narcissa replied, watching as Draco got off the swing to let Harry have a turn. "He needs a friend."

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Your house is tiny," said Draco. Harry was pushing him on the 'swing', which was really just some wood hung from a tree. It wasn't even magical. 

"No it's not," Harry replied, pushing him a little harder. "Moony says we have the biggest house in the whole world." 

Draco laughed. That was funny. Harry was funny; he had seen Draco's house, hadn't he?

"But it's not. My house is bigger," he insisted. His stomach flipped as the swing "jumped." A scream escaped him in surprise. 

Harry laughed. "Just hold on and you won't fall off!" he said. "And my house is bigger. Because it's everywhere." 

Draco yelped as the swing jumped again. He clung to the scratchy rope of the swing. 

"Slow me _down_!" he cried. 

Harry complied by grabbing the robe and slowing him to a halt. 

"And your house isn't everywhere. Otherwise, we might be neighbors!" 

Harry giggled, and shoved Draco off of the swing. "My turn. And I won't scream when it jumps, because I'm a Gryffindor." He got on the swing. "And I don't mean it like that. I mean we live wherever we want. We just got back from a week in Spain."

Draco gave him a push. "Oh. So you go on holiday a lot?" he asked. He and his parents went on holiday to France sometimes. 

"Yes, except we're on holiday longer than we're here. And we go _everywhere_ ," Harry repiled. 

"Do you make many friends?" asked Draco. If he went lots of places, then he must have made lots of friends. Draco had some friends from France.

Harry took a moment to respond, swinging back and forth once. 

"Some. But we move around a lot, so I usually never see them again." He sounded sad. 

Draco gave him another big push. "Well, I'll be here when you come home. And there will be Hogwarts!"

Harry giggled again, and the swing jumped. He seemed to enjoy it.

"Yeah, but you're a Slytherin. Padfoot said so," Harry pointed out, his voice jarring as the swing jumped again. 

"So?" Draco demanded. "We haven't been sorted yet. And how do you know you're a Gryffindor?"

At that moment, Harry let go of the swing and launched forward into the air. Draco almost screamed, but Harry landed on his feet. The swing came back and almost hit Draco in the face. He lurched backwards, seconds from a stinging hit. 

"Because I'm brave, and do things like that," Harry said matter-of-factly. He walked over to Draco. "Besides, my mum and dad were Gryffindors."

Draco frowned, still slightly stunned from Harry's flying act. 

"Where are they? I haven't seen any mums with you..." He murmured, looking into the house where his own mum was talking with the men Harry called Padfoot and Moony. 

Harry shrugged. "They died," he said solemnly, casting his gaze to the ground. "But they fought the Dark Lord, and we saved everyone." 

"They... _died_?" Draco repeated, suddey feeling sad for his new friend. 

Harry smiled. "It's okay. I didn't know them. Moony and Padfoot are my parents now." 

Draco frowned again. How could they be Harry's parents?

"But they're both boys!" he exclaimed, incredulous. "There's no mother!"

Harry crossed his arms. "So? They love each other!" He looked angry now. 

Draco didn't understand, and he wanted Harry to like him, so he kept quiet... But his mother and father had never told him anything like that. Parents were a pureblood man and woman who got married ans had children... That was not Padfoot and Moony. 

"Okay," he said tentatively. "Is it like friend love or family love? Or marriage love?" 

Harry tilted his head. "I think it's all of them."

Draco smiled. That made sense; it was a little like his mother and father. 

"They're boys, and they love each other," declared Harry, firmer this time. As id he didn't think Draco understood the first time. 

"Oh!" He exclaimed, wanting Harry to know he _did_ understand. "Okay. I didn't know it could be like that, two boys. That's nice. I like that." He really did. Girls were nice and all, but they dressed funny and acted different. He thought boys were much better. And Harry made it sound like they were happy, with all kinds of love...

But he didn't care about marriage love anyway. That was silly. There were much better things to do. 

Harry understood that. "Do you want to go fly brooms?" he asked. 

"Yeah!" Draco exclaimed. 

* * *

Draco loved his visits to Harry's house. They had neighbors and the swing and their house was always cozy and warm. Sometimes, a big black dog would come out to play with them, and the neighbors had a big grey cat the dog would chase. Moony always made them cinnamon tea in the evenings, and the house would fill up with the smell of whatever Padfoot or Moony cooked. And Harry's bed was right next to a window, and at night they could hear the crickets and the owls.

They could go on adventures in Harry's back yard or make up stories about dragons and great wizards and kings to play out. If the weather was bad, they would sit in and draw, or Padfoot would teach them a card game, or Moony would tell them fun history stories. And the best part was, he was Harry's friend. 

It was wonderful.  

But having Harry visit the Manor was fun, too. Draco would show off their gardens and they would climb trees when Mother wasn't looking. The house-elves would let them use the kitchens and create all sorts of crazy mixtures. Sometimes, Father would teach them more potions, telling them that it was more productive experimentation. Narcissa would help them find story books and teach them about gardening. And Harry loved to search the endless rooms in the Manor.

They had the entire garden, the entire Grounds, to play in, too. They could hide in the trees or build forts. They could chase the peacocks or fly brooms or go swimmimg when it was warm. 

Or, they would go on trips to the beach, or to Diagon Alley. Once, Draco got to spend two days with Harry and his parents in Greece, and they got to see a bunch of old muggle stone buildings. Another time, they had stayed at Draco's other house in France.

It didn't matter where they were or what they did. All that Draco cared about was that he was with Harry.

But they couldn't always be together. Harry and Padfoot and Moony were gone adventuring in the real world a lot, and Draco had to stay home and study. Mother taught him everything except for potions and writing, which Father taught. 

Mother was a lovely teacher. They would spend afternoons in the sun room reading old books and poems or learning mathematics. Every day, Draco was supposed to give her a list of questions, and they would look theough the library for answers. Or, Mother would answer if she already knew.

One day, a year after meeting Harry, he had a very big question for her. 

They were sitting in the cold winter sunlight, and they were trying to find out if fairies could live in their garden. Draco had not written down this question, but it had been on his mind for a while.

"Mother," he asked, "can boys love each other? Besides Moony and Padfoot?"

She started a bit, and dropped her book, staring at him closely. 

"That's a strange question, little dragon," she remarked, a little stiffly.

"Should we look in a book?" If she didn't know, then they would have to look in a book.

She sighed. "No, darling. You needn't worry about it. Boys _can_ love boys, yes. But they can't get married, if that's what you're asking." She sounded cold, a little reluctant.

"But Padfoot and Moony--"

"Are not married," she interrupted. "And they can love each other all they want, but you shouldn't follow their example."

At the time, he hadn't quite known the implications of her words. He had just accepted it and moved on; how did it affect him? He had not connected it to the fact that he didn't go to Harry's house as often anymore. 

Harry always came over to his house at least once a month, though. Harry had said it was because of the full moon, and he couldn't stay with Moony and Padfoot then. Mother and Father did not explain why when Draco asked, and Harry had only said it was better to go to the Manor than spend it with Neville. 

Draco didn't know who Neville was, but he didn't want to share Harry, so he agreed completely. He already hated that Harry had other friends far away, but the idea that someone else shared their full-moon time was terrible. 

One full moon, when they were nearly ten years old, they had snuck out into the night. It was Harry's idea; he was always wanting to do things like that.

It was a cool early summer night, and they were staying at a house by the sea shore. It was still on the water, and the waves humbly collided with the rocks. It was a soothing sound. 

"We can play hide and seek," Harry suggested, already peering around for hiding spots. "It's completely different in the dark."

Draco shook his head. "No. I think you'll fall into the rocks, or I'll hide so well you won't find me." That wasn't honest, though.

He didn't want to tell Harry he was afraid of the dark. Especially the ocean in the dark. The flat, silver expanse seemed to fade into nothing on the horizon, and even with the full moon lighting it, it was eerie. Merlin knew how many monsters waited within it, just ready to snatch them up and eat them....

But Harry had had grown used to sly Slytherin side-speak after so long. He knew what Draco meant. He took his hand and sat down on one of the rocks.

"Fine, then. We can look for shooting stars." 

Draco was happy with that. He settled himself on the rock, next to Harry, just a few meters away from the salty, slow waves. He wished he could lay back, but the stone was too bumpy. The only thing that kept him calm was Harry's soft breathing and warm presence. He was safe. 

"Mother taught me some new constellations while you were gone," he said proudly, searching the sky for one, to distract himself from the terrifying sea. "I think that one's Orion, and his two dogs." He pointed to the angular configuration in the sky.

Harry laughed to himself. He did that a lot.

"What is it, Scarhead?" he demanded teasingly. 

"Padfoot taught me that one. He said the dog is named after him. Sirius." He giggled again. 

Draco frowned. "Really? Mother never told me." He knew his name was a constellation, which he had shown to Harry long ago. It made sense Padfoot-- _Sirius_ \--was named after one as well. 

Harry nodded. "And he also says Moony is from the moon, but I don't believe that. Moony says it's made of blue cheese." He huffed and crossed his arms bitterly. "They think I'm still little enough to believe all that!"

"I believe them." Draco smirked, and thinking that Harry would believe any of his stories, he decided to prove his point. "Did I tell you about the giant I fought while you were on holiday in Switzerland? It was huge, and hairy--"

Harry punched him in the arm. "Stop it! I know you didn't fight any giants. Like you didn't fight any dragons last spring."

Draco pouted, a little disappointed it didn't work. "But you like my stories!"

"Yeah, but not when you think you can trick me with them," Harry retorted, hugging his knees to his chest and looking sour. "I'm not stupid." 

"Sorry," Draco murmured. "Don't hate me, please. You're not stupid."

Harry just sighed, and stared out at the water a little longer. Draco wondered what was on his mind. He had been acting sullen ever since he came over. They had only just returned from Switzerland. 

He waited for Harry to talk. It didn't take long. 

"Moony had an accident the other day," he said at last. "Padfoot says this is a bad moon." He twisted his face ans looked sad, as if his statement made any sense. 

"A bad moon?" 

Harry sighed, and gave Draco a long look. "You won't tell anyone? Your mum and dad know."

"Know what?" Draco demanded.

"Moony is a werewolf," Harry admitted quietly. "And I don't like lying to you about it. I'm sick of all the lying; we can't stay on one place because we keep on lying." He still looked terribly sour.

"Oh," Draco mumbled. "I didn't know." He had wondered about the full moons... But a werewolf? Moony never hurt anyone! He was so nice. He couldn't be one of the monsters lurking in the dark... Right now...

He couldn't believe his father knew and hadn't said anything. They must have trusted him. He was safe, wasn't he? And he had Harry.

Harry sighed. "Yeah. But Moony and Padfoot still love each other, and I love them. And they love me." He smiled half-heartedly.

Draco elbowed him, trying to lighten the mood. "And I love you! And I would even if you were a werewolf." He said that in the complete hope that Harry would never be a werewolf, and that if he were, he would never hurt Draco.

Still, he of course meant family love. Or friend love. Not marriage love; Mother wouldn't like that. Marriage love was for when he was older, for whomever his parents chose for him. 

But he didn't like thinking about that, because it required thinking of girls. And he didn't like thinking of having to marry someone like _Pansy_ one day. 

Harry laughed, pulling Draco back to reality. "Even if I'm a Gryffindor?" 

Draco fake-scowled. "Oh, I don't know. That's a little worse."

Harry smiled distantly and stared off into the night, over the water.

"You do love me?" he asked eventually. 

Draco nudged him again. "Of course I do. You're my best friend."

Harry grinned his widest grin. "I love you too, Draco. You're _my_ best friend." 

Draco nodded, happy with that, but suddenly aware again of the frightening presence of the ocean.

"Good. But can we go inside now? I don't want to fall into the rocks."

Harry chuckled, but took his hand again and they went back for the beach house. They went to sleep, and carried on with the rest of the summer.

Within a few weeks they would forget that exchange, that quiet proclamation. But they would both keep their word, knowingly or not.

 


	5. Chapter 5

It was Draco's eleventh birthday. His Hogwarts letter had come first thing in the morning, thankfully. Otherwise, he doubted he would have been able to think of anything else. He certainly hadn't been able to since.... Well, since his last birthday.

The owl flew into Draco's room while he was getting dressed. A large, brown owl with startlingly orange eyes drifted in silently through his open window. It landed gracefully on his bedpost, a large envelope in it's talons.

It surprised him, even if he had completely been expecting it. Almost.

Such things can often be uncertain. 

Regardless, when he saw the Hogwart's seal, he forgot in all of his excitement to put on his shirt. He ran down stairs, half-naked, to show his parents. 

"What's the matter, Draco?" Father demanded. "And where is your shirt?" He was a firm believer that even at home, one should be smartly dressed and covered. Draco hardly cared now, though. This was an occasion far too exciting.

Mother was far more forgiving. She stood up to greet him. 

"Is that it, little dragon?" she asked him. 

"Yes!" he cried, holding up the envelope for her to see. "It's really it! I'm going to Hogwarts!" He was smiling so widely his cheeks hurt. 

"Are you so surprised?" Father scoffed, though a smirk lined his lips. "You're my son... Of course you're going to Hogwarts. It's not as though you were a _squib_."

Draco ignored him. He had worried he was a squib for a while, actually. He hadn't had much accidental magic like Harry did--no overnight hair growth or random explosions. Draco's first sign of magic hadn't been until he was nine, and all he had done was turn one of the peacocks lime green. Father would have been angry had it not been for the fact he had done magic. 

"Can I floo Harry?" he asked hopefully, turning the unopened envelope in his hands. 

Mother smiled sweetly and took her seat. "He'll be coming later, Draco. Don't you want to open your letter and have some breakfast instead?" Mother asked. 

Draco shrugged. "I really want to tell Harry. And I won't open it until he gets his, too," he explained. 

Father frowned, but was apparently fine. "Go ahead," he sighed, with a wave of his hand. "And don't forget to put a shirt on!" he called after him.

He heard Mother chuckling as he ran out of the dining room. He hurried up to his own room, where his own fireplace was. 

Before that, though, he remembered his Father's request and threw his shirt on. It was crisp and white and the Floo powder would probably ruin it... But that would show him, wouldn't it?

He knelt down and tossed some of the powder in. "Godric's Hollow," he exclaimed eagerly. 

He put his head into the flames. On the other side, the living room was empty. 

"Harry!" he called out. 

Within a few moments, Harry appeared in the room, still in his pajamas. Harry was lucky; Padfoot and Moony let him wear his pajamas around the house. Draco enjoyed doing that on the rare occasion he stayed over.

"What is it?" Harry grumbled, rubbing his green eyes that were still bleary with sleep. "Were you worried I would forget to wish you a happy birthday?"

"Of course not!" Draco snapped. "The letter came," he added, his voice almost dropping to a whisper. 

Harry's eyes widened, and he dropped to the floor and crossed his legs. "Did you open it?" he demanded, leaning forward earnestly.

"No!" Draco assured him. "I'm waiting for you. We'll open them together." 

Harry grinned. "Great."

Draco lingered a moment longer, too excited to leave and stop talking. But he knew he had to go soon. Mother and Father were waiting, and he could smell the bisuits from downstairs. And his knees were beginning to dig into the cold stone floor, which was rather uncomfortable.

"Harry! Breakfast! You can talk to Draco later!" A voice called, giving a reason to say goodbye. It sounded like Padfoot.

Harry's smile turned lopsided. "I'll see you in a few hours," he promised. "Padfoot's made apple sausage."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Brag all you like. _I_ get biscuits for breakfast."

Harry stood up. "Don't care!" he chirped as he strode away. 

Draco pulled his head out of the fire and went back downstairs to his parents. 

* * *

"How's the birthday brat?" Padfoot asked, scooping some herby potatoes onto his plate. 

"Don't call him that!" Moony snapped, stealing a piece from his plate. "It's rude."

"So's stealing my food!"

Harry cleared his throat, ignoring them. "He's good. His letter came, but he's waiting for me to get mine." 

"That's sweet." Moony smiled, filling his own plate with the apple sausages and potatoes. He made one for Harry, too. 

Padfoot laughed. "Yes, very. Waiting is _so_ romantic!" he shook his head and wiped a fake tear from his eye. 

Harry coughed. "What?" he demanded, taking the plate he was given.

Moony rolled his eyes. "You know to ignore him," he said, passively waving a hand. "Eat some food."

The tips of his ears turned red as he began to cut at the sausages. Padfoot was still snickering to himself. 

"Speaking of romantic," he said, taking a bite of food, "what are Moony and I to do when you're off at Hogwarts?"

Harry gagged, but knew it was all in good nature. 

"Will you stay here or travel more?" he asked them through a mouthful. It tasted sweet and spicy, as usual. He loved it when Padfoot cooked, which was rare.

The said cook shrugged. "How's Venice sound, Remus?" He winked at Moony suggestively. 

"Wonderful," he replied with a cheesy smile. "But it might be nice to stay here for a while. With Harry at school, we won't have to worry about reporters finding him here." He casually poured himself another cup of coffee.

Harry scowled. "Won't I be able to tell people you're my parents? Draco and Neville know. Why can't everyone else?"

Moony sighed. "Harry. Not everyone is okay with two men raising a child together. You know what Mrs. Malfoy thinks... Some people are much worse," he explained tenderly. 

"But it's not fair!" Harry exclaimed. "I hardly know anything about the Dursleys. I've visted them once, and they were dreadful! How am I supposed to say they're my family?" He demanded, giving Padfoot a pleading look. He wanted everyone to know his real family... Not for them to think he was raised by a bunch of stupid muggles!

Padfoot sighed. "I have to agree with Moony on this one. You _know_ why we move so much. This is the same thing. Besides, Dumbledore will help you stick to your story."

Harry crossed his arms. He had suddenly lost his appetite. It was hardly fair he had to keep his family a secret. He didn't understand how they coped with it. Besides, whose business was it anyway?

"But I'm Harry Potter!" he protested, voicing his thoughts. "Why would anyone care who raised me? I'm still _me_."

Moony and Padfoot exchanged a look. They both spoke at once.

"No," Moony said firmly.

"We'll think about it." Padfoot said with less resolve. 

Harry groaned and stabbed his food with his fork. "It's stupid," he grumbled. He looked up and dropped the utensil. As stubbornly as he could, he announced, "I'm going to go get dressed. And then can we go to Draco's early?"

Moony sighed. "Fine. Get dressed," he replied as Harry began to leave. "And don't forget your present for Draco!"

"I'm eating the rest of your breakfast, young man!" Padfoot added.

Harry tried not to smile, but they couldn't see him anyway, so he did. It was hard to stay mad at Padfoot, who was clearly trying to compromise. And soon enough he would forgive Moony, too. 

He got dressed as quickly as he could. The Malfoy's would expect them to come early; Padfoot and Moony refused to "follow their rules." He used to worry that the Malfoy's would never let Harry come over again, but he soon realized that Draco usually got his way with his parents. 

Especially on his birthday. 

Harry quickly threw on his favorite shirt and the trousers closest to the top of the drawer. In minutes, he was dressed and ready to go. He hurried back to the kitchen, where Moony and Padfoot were still eating.

"Whoa, slow down there, Lightning," Padfoot laughed, taking a huge bite of potatoes. 

"That wasn't funny," Moony chided, despite covering his mouth with his hand and stifling a laugh. "Don't call him Lightning."

Padfoot snorted. "It was funny! Wasn't it, Harry?" he asked, as both he and Moony erupted in laughter.

"Yeah. Maybe the first three dozen times," he muttered. Padfoot rarely came up with new jokes or nicknames. They all got old fast. 

His two father-figures kept on laughing. 

"He's sounding like you, Moony," Padfoot chuckled, stilling himself and stopping his laughter. 

Harry crossed his arms. "Let's go!" he demanded, now done with them.

Moony smiled and ignored him. "We are going to miss you," he said, changing the subject in a most parent-like way.

"Sure you are. That's why you won't let me tell anyone you're my dads," he retorted, still grumpy. "Now, can we go to Draco's now?"

They exchanged a look. 

"Fine," Moony said at last. "Let me find the floo powder."

"Wasn't it on top of the fireplace?" Harry asked impaitently.

"I think it's still packed," Padfoot replied. 

Harry rolled his eyes. Of course it was packed. Nothing could ever be simple for once. 

* * *

Harry arrived early, of course. He always did. There was no way of stopping it. And Draco was grateful--he was practically bursting with excitement. Even if he did have to wait over a month to open his letter with Harry. 

"You're here!" Draco cried, greeting his friend by the fireplace. 

Behind him, Father huffed. "Like he was last week. And the week before that." 

Mother simply laughed softly. 

Harry grinned widely and gave Draco a big hug. "Happy birthday!" he exclaimed. 

Moony and Padfoot climbed out of the fireplace a moment later. They both greeted him as well.

"We're not interrupting, are we?" Moony asked. 

Mother shook her head. "Not at all. Draco was just opening his gifts," she said warmly. 

Draco nodded and sat back down on the floor. There was a pile of wrapping paper, a scattered arrangement of gifts, and a few more boxes to open. 

Harry sat down with him and offered him another box. "I think you'll like it," he promised. 

Draco took it eagerly and inspected the wrapping. It was colorful paper, patterned with red, yellow, and blue stripes; it was definitely muggle. For some reason, Moony and Padfoot loved all things muggle. They always gave him muggle gifts. It was usually exciting to figure out what it was supposed to do.

He ripped open the paper to reveal a plain cardboard box, which he also ripped open. Inside of it was a strange red circular thing. It had a string wrapped around it.

"What is it?" he inquired, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. 

"Guess what it's for," Moony ordered, smiling mischeviously.

Draco frowned. "What do you think, Father?" he asked, looking up at his parents for support. 

"Is it a weapon?" Father asked cautiously, leaning forward in his seat to inspect at the thing. 

"I think it's a toy," Mother suggested, looking at it curiously.

"Tell me what it does, Harry!" Draco demanded, turning to look at his snickering friend. 

Harry was acting like it was some kind of grand joke. "You use the string to make it to tricks." He made a slinging motion with his hand. "That's your hint."

"What?" Mother asked, knitting her eyebrows in perplexion.

"Let me see!" Father growled insistently. As usual, he refused to be outdone by muggle knick knacks. 

Draco laughed and tossed him the thing. Father was never intimidated by the muggle objects they were given. He was always set upon figuring them out, vowing to never be outdone by petty muggle inventions.

"Open this one," Padfoot instructed, levitating another (more wizard-like) package towards Draco. He had a devious look on his face that made Draco feel cautious. 

It was lighter than the other one, and easier to unwrap. He quickly got it open, and winced when he saw the contents.

A Gryffindor scarf. Obnoxiously red and gold stripes. A tiny lion printed at the end. 

"Oh," he said, confused. 

Padfoot was stifling laughter, and Moony was giving him a grave look.

"Oh dear," Mother whispered. "A poor choice, Sirius. Those colors would look _horrible_ on Draco." She said it tactfully, as if not wanting to point out the real issue with the scarf.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Father demanded, dropping the muggle toy.

Padfoot began laughing now. "No joke!" he exclaimed, trying to be serious. "You never know what your son could do! He and Harry are awfully similar." 

Father glowered at him and picked the toy back up, handing it to Draco. "Are you implying that your son has been _influencing_ mine?" he demanded, never breaking eye contact with Padfoot.

Mother made a startled sound.

Draco gave Harry a concerned look, and they began scooting away from the adults.

"No!" Moony cried. "I don't know what Sirius was thinking. Draco and Harry may get along, but I'm sure their Houses are--"

Father cut him off. "My son will be returning this gift when your son is sorted into Gryffindor," he retorted curtly, lifting his chin.

"Damn straight Harry will be!" Padfoot shouted pridefully.

"Let's go outside," Draco whispered to Harry. "I'll open the rest later." He wanted to escape before any more arguments ensued. 

"Bring your letter," Harry advised. 

Draco nodded and slid it out from the array of presents. 

They quietly escaped the room, where Father was aggressively suggesting they buy Harry a Slytherin scarf to be even. 

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured once they were out of earshot. "Padfoot is stupid sometimes."

"It's okay. It's just a scarf," Draco replied. He nudged Harry. "I'll just give it back to you anyway."

Harry moved ahead to lead the way outside. He knew his way around the house almost as well as Draco did. 

"Whatever," muttered. "I'm mad at them anyway." 

Draco hurried to catch up with him. Harry wasn't mad with them often, and it was usually bad when he was. Last time it happened, it was because they had left him with a nanny who didn't even speak English while they were exploring somewhere in Russia.

"What happened?"

Harry swung a right, taking the shortcut to get out into the grounds. 

"They still want me to tell everyone they're not my dads." He stared at his feet glumly as he walked. "I have to tell everyone at Hogwarts I was raised by muggles."

"No!" Draco cried as he opened the door. "Then no one in Slytherin will like you."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Well, I'll be in Gryffindor anyway!" he reminded him. 

Draco frowned. He secretly wished that Harry wouldn't be. It would be easier to stay friends if they were in the same house. 

Who knew? Maybe Padfoot was right and he would be sorted into Gryffindor. Wouldn't _that_ thrill Father....

"Yeah," Draco muttered. "I guess it doesn't matter. Think you and Neville will be friends?" he asked. 

Harry gave him a shove, which sent Draco tumbling towards the ground. 

"Hey!" he shouted, climbing back to his feet.

"Stop talking like I'm going to replace you," Harry told him indignantly. "You're my best friend, whether you're a snake or a lion or... Or an eagle! Or even a badger!" he exclaimed. 

Draco crossed his arms and glared at Harry. He wasn't going to say it out loud, but he knew that whichever Houses they were Sorted into would have a huge effect on their friendship. 

He wanted to make the best of his summer left with Harry. 

"Let's practice flying, yeah?" he asked. "Then we'll see if Father has made up with Padfoot yet."

Harry laughed. "We'll have lots of time."

* * *

And so they did. But time flies quickly, and the summer slipped from their fingers like the Snitch. Mr. Malfoy would make up with Padfoot, and then they would fight again. Their visits would continue to consist of fun and games for the boys, and tense interaction for the parents. 

Harry's birthday soon arrived, and his letter came, too. There had never been a doubt in his mind that it would, and when it arrived on that last July morning, it was a sweet breath of relief. 

No more waiting. 

Padfoot and Moony let him skip the usual early birthday rituals, because they knew how much the letter meant to him. In fact, they had gotten up early to bring Draco over to surprise Harry. 

Harry wasn't scared-surprised like Padfoot had hoped, though. Instead, he only busted into laughter when he collided head-on with Draco as he ran out of his room, Hogwarts letter in hand. 

"It's here!" they both cried, having landed sore on their bottoms but giggling all the same. 

Draco had his own letter, too. The envelope had discolored a little, and it was covered in dust, but neither boy cared. They darted into the living room, where Padfoot waited with a smirk. Harry could smell something wonderful coming from the kitchen. 

"G'morning!" he exclaimed, immediately plopping himself onto the floor. Draco sat down with him, and they were ready to open their letters. 

"You sure you don't want to wait just one more day?" Padfoot teased. 

"No!" Draco wailed. Harry agreed with him. 

"We're opening them _now,_ " he affirmed. 

"Not presents?" Padfoot asked. 

"Not even cake?" Moony called from the kitchen. 

"No!" both boys shouted, and immediately turned to face each other while Padfoot chuckled. 

"On the count of three?" Harry asked, lifting up his letter.

"One," Draco said, lifting his own. 

"Two," they both said, getting ready to rip them open. 

"Three!" they cried, tearing open the envelope at once. 

And that was that. No explosion of paper or magic or happiness. A little dissatisfying. 

Padfoot laughed raucously. "Won't you read them?" he asked. 

Draco and Harry looked up at each other, and immediately began reading their letters. Not surprisingly, they were the same, word for word. 

"This is exciting," Draco whispered, turing the page. "We have to go to Diagon Alley _immediately_!" 

Harry nodded in agreement. "Look at all the books we need! And potions ingredients! I bet your dad has most of those," he added. 

Draco shrugged. "But it will be fun to buy our own," he replied. "But we'll have to get robes!"

Moony then entered the room, carrying a huge chocolate cake. It was covered in sparking, magical candles.

"Not so fast, you two," he grinned. "Before Diagon, why don't you have some breakfast?" he asked. 

Harry laughed. "Yes! Cake!" 

Draco sat up straighter. "My favorite." He licked his lips.

"Don't tell your mother, Draco," Moony whispered furtively. 

Padfoot laughed. "She gives his biscuits for breakfast on _his_ birthday! Who's to say we can't feed him cake?" he demanded. 

Moony reddened. "I can never tell where Narcissa draws her lines," he grumbled, setting it down on the coffee table. 

Padfoot got up and summoned some plates and forks. He began singing Happy Birthday, and told Harry to blow out the candles and make a wish.

He wished to stay close with Draco at Hogwarts.

Then, they all ate some warm, frosted chocolate cake. 

Draco ate his faster than anyone else, and licked his plate clean. 

"Better than biscuits?" Harry asked him, scraping the frosting off his own plate.

"No," Draco mumbled, staring at his empty plate. "But that doesn't stop me from wanting seconds." 

He did get seconds, and they continued to read over their letters together. 

"Who would want a toad?" Draco muttered in response to the supply list. He was now lying on the floor and scanning over the rest of the letter. 

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I think Neville's got one." 

Draco belched. "Whenever you talk about Neville I don't know if I feel sorry for him or want to make fun of him." 

"Don't lie. You want to make fun of him," Harry retorted. He knew Draco all too well, and he also knew that he often wanted to make fun of Neville, too. 

Moony sighed. "Be nice, boys."

"Yeah," Padfoot interjected, "the Longbottoms are good, Gryffindor blood." 

Draco was probably about to say something about blood he'd regret, but the door rang just then. 

"I'll get it," Padfoot grunted, getting to his feet. "Five sickles I know who it is, too!" he added. 

Harry and Draco sat up, and Moony began to clean the plates. In a few moments, Harry heard a familiar booming voice, and a giant, hairy man ducked into the room. 

"Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet to hug the man. He had only met him a few times, but Moony and Padfoot always told stories about how it was Hagrid who brought him to them all those years ago. 

Also, in one of Padfoot's many stories, he had tried to tell Harry that Hagrid was who all babies to parents. But Moony defrauded that as an "unfair sexual misconception" (whatever that meant), and Hagrid had told Harry with a blush that it was most certainly not true. 

"Harry!" Hagrid boomed, pulling him into a tight bear hug. "Yer officially a wizard today!" 

Harry giggled and struggled to release himself. Padfoot squeezed out from behind Hagrid. 

"Looks like I lose five sickles. I could have sworn it would be Dumbledore," he sighed. 

It took Harry a moment to notice he was carrying a cage. Inside it was a bright yellow-eyed snowy owl.

His own eyes widened. "Is that...?"

"For you, Harry." Hagrid beamed. "T'was the least I could do, after all yer family's done for me." 

Padfoot handed him the cage and drifted off to a smirking Moony. He sighed and dejectedly handed him five sickles. 

Draco cleared his throat. "Er, hi. Hagrid?" 

Harry spun around, realizing his friend had never gotten to meet Hagrid before. He carried the cage over to wher Draco was, then took his hand and pulled him over to Hagrid, who was staring curiously. 

"Draco, this is our friend Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore had him give me to Moony and Padfoot. Also, Padfoot gave him a flying motorcycle." Harry explained. He didn't know the story behind the last part, but he thought it was Moony's idea. 

"Oh," Draco said. He straightened himself and offered his hand, looking more confident. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Harry's best friend." 

Hagrid smiled and gave Draco a crushing handshake. "Oh! I've heard all about yeh! Harry never told me yeh were a Malfoy, though," he added, giving Harry's dads a look. 

Moony laughed. "They're alright, Hagrid," he promised. "Would you like some cake?"

Hagrid let go of Draco and went to the table. "Yes, please!" he exclaimed. 

Harry and Draco exchanged a giggle. 

"Let's go check out my owl," Harry suggested, moving to leave.

Draco nodded eagerly. "And we can name it! I bet we can look through Mother's library to find a good, magical name for it."

"Your mum has a book of owl names?" Harry snickered. 

"No!" Draco snapped. "Come on, before the adults have us do something with them."

The boys hurriedly escaped the room, taking the owl outside to the swing. They kept her in the cage, even if they knew magical owls wouldn't just fly away. They talked to her and tried to take her onto the swing, which she didn't like. 

In the end, they didn't use the library to find her name. Harry named her Hedwig, after a witch from one of Moony's history stories. He couldn't remember which one. 

Later, Harry opened presents, and Hagrid tried teaching him and Draco old folk songs. They ate some real food, and chased each other through the small streets of Godric's Hollow. Hagrid left not long after, flying away on the motorcycle.

When the sun started going down, they did the last of Harry's birthday rituals. Padfoot, Moony, Harry, and Draco (for his first time) all went down to the cemetary. 

They paid their respects to the statue of Lily and James Potter, and put flowers by the gravestone. Many other peopl had visited that day, too. There were always lots of flowers there.

Harry taught Draco the little chant he said every time he visited.

"Thank you for making me. Thank you for saving me. I am very happy, and I love Moony and Padfoot," Harry whispered, setting down another flower. 

Draco, crouched down next to him, added, "And we can't wait to go to Hogwarts."

They got up and turned around, where Moony and Padfoot were holding hands like they always did. Harry only saw Padfoot cry when they visited Lily and James, and he still cried this time. 

Moony squeezed his hand. "Let's all go our for some dinner, shall we?" he asked. 

They went to the little muggle pub across from the church. There were a few other wizards there, who gave Harry respectful nods. 

Harry's birthday was the one time of the year when Moony and Padfoot didn't mind taking Harry out into the wizarding world. 

They had dinner, and they even got more cake. This time, when Harry blew out the candles, he had a different wish. 

_I wish everyone could know who my family is._


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you ready to leave, Draco?" Father called. He was waiting down the stairs.

Draco sighed. "Come _on_ , Mother," he growled. "Father is waiting."

Mother, however, did not cease her work in combing his hair. She had been at it for nearly ten minutes, and his head was feeling exceptionslly heavy from all the gel she had put in it. 

"Just another minute, dragon," she told him. "I'm almost done."

"My head feels sticky," he complained, lifting a hand to touch the side of his head. 

Mother smacked it away. "Then don't touch it!" she chided. 

He huffed, and decided that he definitely wouldn't be going through the effort with his hair when he was at school. 

"Harry never has to put goop in his hair," Draco whined. 

Mother flicked her wand and he felt the goop harden. "Well, Harry most likely couldn't have his hair tamed anyway. You're lucky enough to have the option to look so nice." She handed him a mirror and smiled with satisfaction.

Draco grimaced when he saw his reflection. His hair was combed all the way back. It looked like it formed a shell on his scalp. 

"Don't scowl," Mother whispered. "It makes you look like your father." She was only teasing, of course. 

"Is that why you did _this_ to me?" He asked in response, staring at the hideous shell of blond on his scalp. "So I don't look like him?"

Mother only smiled. "I don't think you could care for hair as long as his anyway," she said with saccharine sweetness. 

He huffed again and climbed out of the chair as fast as he could. 

"How long will this stay in?" he asked her with a groan. He hoped not for very long.

"Two days," she replied. "And I've packed some more gel in your trunk so you can do it yourself." She patted his shoulder pleasantly, and Draco just bit the inside of his cheek.

"May we leave now?" Father shouted impatiently. He was still waiting downstairs. 

Mother sighed and took Draco's hand. "I will write Severus and tell him to make sure you stay looking tidy," she told him as she led him down the staircase. 

He suppressed another groan as he went to join Father. 

"Dear gods," he muttered. "The robes are handsome... But the hair! Really, Narcissa?" he questioned, knitting his eyebrows. 

It made Draco feel even worse about the new look. If Father didn't approve... Well, then it must habe been deplorable. He dreaded going to the train station looking as he did.

Mother sniffed and gave Father a hard look. "It's supposed to be classy," she replied. "It's perfectly fashionable, I assure you." 

Father rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you've been reading _Witch Weekly_ again," he said with a scowl. "I should have never introduced you to Carla." 

Mother crossed her arms. "It's helpful! And it's a free subscription," she added testily. 

"Darling," Father groaned, "I could buy you the whole damned company. Don't make a free subscription your excuse for reading that garbage." Despite his complaints, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Draco cleared his throat. "Are we going, Father?" he inquired. 

Father diverted his attention from his wife and looked at Draco. "Of course, Draco. Say goodbye to your mother," he ordered.

He smiled and gave Mother a hug, knowing he'd miss her--even if she did do terrible things to his hair. 

"Goodbye," he said. "I'll miss you."

She held him tightly. "Oh, dragon, what will I do without you?" she asked. "I will miss you so."

"Yes, yes," grumbled Father. "We'll be fine. Don't you have a meeting to get to in twenty minutes?"

Mother kissed Draco on the forehead and stood up straight. "Quiet, Lucius. You may be in a hurry, but I would like to say goodbye to my son. He is more important than any charity meeting."

Father took Draco's hand. "Of course, Narcissa, but we can't have him miss the train," he replied, kissing her again on the cheek. "Ans it's your charity work that keeps us on such good terms with the world. That, and my job with the Ministry. And I cannot be late!"

"Goodbye, Mother," Draco said. "I love you."

"And I you, Draco," she hummed in reply. "Now, you should go! Leave me to the charity work--it's all I'll have once you're gone." She wiped a dramatic tear from her eye.

Sometimes, she and Father liked to see who could outdo each other with acted emotions. Draco could never tell when they were being real or not. This was one of those times. 

Father smiled. "You'll have me, Narcissa," he reminded her. "Now, we have to leave!" 

Draco looked at his mother one last time. "I'll write you!" he promised.

Then, he squeezed Father's hand, and stuffed the other hand in his pocket where all his luggage had been shrunken down to fit into. 

He closed his eyes as they Apparated away to the train station. 

* * *

"You're going off to Hogwarts!" Padfoot sang, tone deaf as usual. "A magical, magical school!" 

Harry laughed as Moony waved his wand with a dramatic flourish and sent all of his things folded into his trunk. 

"Sing, Remus!" Padfoot cried, spinning in a circle and distracting Moony, causing him to slam the trunk shut abruptly. 

"Why are you so happy?" Moony demanded. "Harry's leaving us."

Padfoot grinned goofily and took Remus' hand. "Yes, but think of all the fun he'll have! This is the beginning of the best years of his life!" he exclaimed. He continued singing more random lines about Hogwarts. 

Moony sighed and crouched down to meet Harry's eyes. He took his hand. 

"You'll have lots of fun," he promised, "even if Draco goes to Slytherin. I know you're worried."

Harry shook his head. "I know, Moony. But I'll miss you." 

Moony smiled with one side of his mouth and ruffled Harry's untameable hair. "Thanks, Harry. We'll miss you terribly." 

Padfoot stopped his singing and dancing and suddenly looked very serious. "We _will_ miss you. Who will I make up stories for?" he asked pleadingly. 

"I'll write you," Harry suggested, "and you can write me stories."

Padfoot tilted his head thoughtfully and stroked his chin. "An interesting suggestion. Written communication... Perhaps Hedwig can help?" 

Harry laughed. "That's her job!" he exclaimed. 

Hedwig, who was tucked away in her cage and resting on his desk, hooted pridefully.

Moony rolled his eyes. "Stop fooling around, Padfoot. We have to say goodbye to him soon."

"But I'm always fooling around!" Padfoot cried in protest. "I want him to remember me correctly."

Harry grabbed Padfoot's hand. "You're both fussing. I'll be back for Christmas!" he reminded them.

His parents exchanged a look. 

"It's just strange thinking what we'll do without you," Moony said quietly, suddenly somber.

"Yeah," Padfoot agreed. "I've become a responsible adult raising you. What if I've forgotten how to have fun?" he questioned, looking genuinely scared. 

Moony elbowed him. "Come, now. We'll have plenty fun; especially since there's no war like there was when we were actually young."

There was a moment of silence. Harry realized that Padfoot's eyes had begun to water. 

He sniffed. "James and Lily would be very proud of you, Harry," he said, scooping Harry up into a hug. 

Moony joined in. "We're proud of you, too."

There was a knock on the door, and Harry wriggled free. 

"If you're so proud, why can't you both come with me to the station?" he asked them for the hundreth time. 

"We can't," Moony said for the hundred and fiftieth time. 

"But you're my dads," Harry pleaded. "I don't want you to hide."

Padfoot wiped some more tears from his eyes. "I know, Harry," he choked. "And we're so proud of you, and we don't like hiding. But we want you to be happy, so we have to be discreet." 

Harry pursed his lips and gave them his best pout-face. "But I would be happy if you came with me!" He protested. 

Moony crouched down again. "Hey," he said, using a hand to pull back Harry's hair and reveal his scar. "You're Harry Potter. You can do this without us. You're going to be great," he assured him. 

Harry knit his eyebrows. "That's not what I'm talking about!"

They heard the knocking at the door again, louder this time. 

Padfoot cleared his throat. "Let's get your stuff to the door, yeah?" he asked. "Hagrid's waiting for you."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, giving up. 

Moony gave him a concerned look, and both he and Padfoot looked uneasy as they led him to the door. 

 _Good,_  he thought. 

But then he felt bad. When they made it to the bottom of the stairs, he turned to them and gave them each a big hug. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "I love you both."

The door shook as it was knocked on again. 

"Just a minute, Hagrid!" Padfoot called. "We're having a moment with our son."

Then, inexplicably, they all laughed. Moony and Padfoot each planted a kiss on his forehead. 

"You have everything packed?" asked Moony. 

"Unless _you_ forgot something," Padfoot teased him, taking his hand. They walked over to the door  and opened it to let Hagrid in. 

Except it wasn't Hagrid at the door. It was some woman Harry had never seen before. She had curly blond hair, ugly glasses, and was carrying a notepad and a bright green quill. 

Padfoot and Moony gaped.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your family moment," she said with saccharine sweetness. "I'm Rita Skeeter. Is this your son?" she inquired, pointing to Harry. 

"Uh, hi," Harry said uneasily. Who was this woman?

Moony tugged on his shoulder, pulling him out on the way and slammed the door in the woman's face. 

"We don't want you here!" he shouted at the door. "Go away!"

Harry blinked. Moony looked frantic and sounded angry. Padfoot looked dazed. 

"On the contrary," Skeeter's muffled voice came through the door, "I think you do want me here." 

Padfoot moved closer to the door but did not open it. "And why's that?" he demanded loudly, obviously skeptical. 

"Because I know your son is Harry Potter," came the response, "and if you don't supply me any additional information, I will be forced to come up with my own explanation."

"Who is she?" Harry asked quietly, feeling scared. He had never seen them so upset before. Well, except for that one time a smelly muggle stole Padfoot's wallet when they were in Paris. Except this seemed far worse. 

"A reporter," Moony growled, stalking over to the door and swinging it open.

"You can't do that!" he told her. "That's slander!"

Skeeter twirled her quill. "Do you think I care?" she inquired. "I'm the only reporter who's got this kind of info on the Boy Who Lived--and right before he leaves for Hogwarts, too." She winked at them, and gave Harry a little smirk. 

"What can we give you to shut up?" Padfoot demanded. "We have money."

Skeeter rolled her eyes and scribbled something down. "Former suspected Death Eater attempts bribery to cover dark secret," she murmured. "Doesn't that sound lovely? Mmmhmm." She giggled. 

Padfoot clenched his fists. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, but I _would_ ," she replied. "Don't you see? I'm not in it for the money. I want the _fame_." 

Moony let out a long exhale. "Who sold us out?" he asked calmly. 

"Was it the Malfoys?" Padfoot demanded, less calmly. 

Harry almost cried out, but he didn't. He was terribly confused. 

"Slow down there," Skeeter hummed. "I don't know anything about the Malfoys. I got a tip from a man who claimed to have seen you in Diagon Alley a few weeks back. He said he had also seen you with Potter at a local pub on the boy's birthday," she explained. 

Moony glowered at her. "And that somehow led you here?" 

She twirled her quill again and wrote something else down. "It's no secret that you live here. We've gotten numerous tips that Black ans Lupin can be found in the village occasionally." she said casually. 

"We set wards," Moony hissed. "We were supposed to be safe."

"From what?" She chuckled. "The Dark Lord? He's dead gone, thanks to your _handsome_ little boy." 

Harry blushed, but then he stopped paying attention. He heard a great rumbling, and Hagrid and his motorcycle appeared in the sky. 

Padfoot groaned and gave Harry a quick hug. "Stick to the plan. Don't tell anyone. We'll sort this out." He pushed Harry out the door. 

"Have a wonderful year," Moony said drily. Distracted.

"Oh, yes," Skeeter purred. "Have fun, Harry Potter. I hope to hear more from you."

Hagrid landed, and in a daze, Harry put his things on the motorcycle and they were flying away to the London train station. 

* * *

Draco couldn't see Harry anywhere. He was feeling nervous. He didn't think he had seen so many people in one place at once before. He clung close to Father and to his luggage, which had been restored to its proper size.  

Father haf also been kind enough to cast a spell that liberated Draco's hair from the nasty goop. It now fell as it naturally did, leaving him much less self conscious.

"Oh, look," Father said, still holding Draco's hand. "There's Blaise Zabini. Why don't you join him and I head off to work?" 

Draco held on tighter. "No, not yet," he pleaded. "Just a few more minutes?" 

Father sighed. "Fine, Draco. But I'll say my goodbyes now." 

"Fine." Draco then hugged him tightly. "I love you. Please don't forget to write me."

Father hugged him back tentatively. "Of course I won't forget," he said quietly. Then, almost jokingly, "I think I would hear from Dumbledore if I didn't write you."

Draco laughed. "Is that part of your contract, too?"

Father chuckled quietly and kissed him on the forehead. "No, son. It's part of being a good father."

Draco squeezed him for one last minute and let go. He suddenly felt very grateful for Father. He wondered what his life would be like if Father wasn't so kind... Of course, he could be cold at times and never really was perfect, but he was nice and happy and took good care of him. 

"I'm so glad you're not too embarrased to hug me in public," Father laughed. "I thought you would be."

Draco crossed his arms. "Well, now that you _say_ it..." 

He was distracted when he saw a very disgruntled-looking Harry appear through the wall. 

"Bye, Father!" Draco exclaimed abruptly. "I love you. See you in a few months!" he added hastily, running off to greet Harry and pulling his wheeled trunk behind him.

Behind him, his father smiled wryly, tutting and shaking his head. He Disapparated away to the Ministry.

But as he was approaching him, Harry appeared to be swarmed by a mass of redheads. Draco couldn't see a way through. 

He stood there awkwardly for a moment, watching as Harry was trapped by these strangers. He felt very uncomfortable seeing them. Jealous, even. 

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He turbed around to see a vaguely familiar dark haired girl. 

"Hi, Draco!" she exclaimed, hugging him. 

He shoved her away. "Who are you?" he demanded. 

She crossed her arms, looking very hurt. "It's me! Pansy!" 

He frowned, realizing that he _did_ know her. He hadn't seen her in a few years, though. 

"Oh. Sorry," he mumbled, not really caring. 

The man he recognized as Mr. Parkinson strode over and loomed behind his daughter. 

"We don't associate with traitors, Pansy," he said quietly. Something threatening in his expression scared Draco.

Pansy sniffed. "You're right, Daddy. He's terribly rude now, anyhow." 

Draco blinked and watched them walk away. 

 _Traitor_?

He had never heard someone call him that. He knew what it meant, and his mother had mentioned ot before... But that wasn't him, was it? 

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard that familar voice again. 

"Draco!" Harry called. 

Draco jerked his head to look over and see Harry waving him over. Standing next to one of the ginger swarmers. 

Draco waved and rushed over to greet him. He hadn't seen him in a few weeks, since Padfoot and Moony had taken him off on some last trip after his birthday. 

"Hi!" Draco exclaimed. 

"Hi!" replied Harry. "This is Ron. I just met him. He's a first year, too."

Ron looked at Draco closely. "Malfoy." He grimaced. He made it sound like a dirty word, and Draco didn't like that. 

But he realized he recognized the boy, too. Or thought he did. Father spoke of an annoying, poorly dressed ginger that he worked with at the Ministry. Draco bet that this was one of his many sons. 

"Hmm," he muttered, returning the scrutinizing look. "Poor, red hair, and rude. You must be a Weasley." He raised his eyebrows triumphantly and smirked. 

Harry just blinked. "You know each other?" he asked. 

"No," Ron Weasley grumbled. "But I know he's a git. I've heard stories about the Malfoys. They're bad people. You're friends with him?" he asked warily. 

"Yeah. I am," Harry answered firmly. "And he's not a git, or from a bad family."

Weasley's eyes widened. "I won't be friends with a Malfoy. Or anyone who think's they're not bad. See you around, Harry." He turned away and went to board the train. 

Draco stifled a laugh. "Does he even know who you _are_?" he asked. If he did, he might take Harry's idea of good people more seriously. 

"He will soon," Harry muttered, sounding darker than usual. "Everyone will."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry just took hold of his cart and began wheeling his things towards the train. "Come on," he said. "Let's get a good seat before it leaves."

Draco hurried after him, and in a few minutes, they had found an empty compartment to share. 

"Isn't it exciting?" he asked. 

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he agreed absently. "It really is."

The train rumbled into motion, and soon the station was out of sight and they were going at a steady speed. Harry didn't seem to be in a mood to talk, though, so Draco pulled out a book.

It didn't take long until someone knocked on their compartment door. Draco looked up and saw two identical red heads--more Weasley's.

They opened the door and both stepped in.

"Hullo," they said. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" 

Harry looked away from the window. Draco spoke first, though. 

"Yeah, he is. Come to be rude like your brother was?" he demanded.

The twins exchanged a look. 

"We're terribly sorry about that," one said, tilting his head.

"Our brother is a git, and we would hate to be held responsible for his actions," the other added, wringing his hands.

Harry nodded. "Okay. Hello, then. This is Draco Malfoy," he said, gesturing to Draco, who waved. 

"Hi," they said passively.

"Guessing you aren't as bad as they say," the first one said. 

Draco nodded. "My Father fought against Lord Voldemort," he said proudly, lifting his chin. That was as much as he knew about the war, really, and Mother had told him to tell people that.

The looked at each other and snickered. 

"Not the story we heard," said one.

"Our dad says he ditched the Dark Lord at the last minute," said the other. 

Draco stiffened, not quite understanding what they meant. What was that supposed to mean?

Harry scowled, and came to the Malfoy's defense. "Mr. Malfoy saved my--saved Sirius Black from being falsely imprisoned," he informed them. 

"Good to know," the twins said, looking rather unaffected.

"But we must be going," the first announced. 

The other nodded. "There's other people to visit."

And with that, they left, leaving Harry and Draco alone again. 

"Strange," Draco remarked. 

Harry grinned. "Yeah. But neat. Bet they'll go around telling everyone who I am now, though," he added. 

"Hurray," Draco grumbled. "More visitors for us."

And more visitors did come. The next was a frizzy haired little girl. 

"Hello," she greeted them. "I'm Hermione Granger. Have you seen a toad?" She asked. 

Draco frowned, both at her frumpy appearance and the fact she was missing a toad.

"Have you lost one?" he asked, peering at her curiously. 

She shook her head. "Oh, not me. A boy named Neville Longbottom. I was only helping," she explained.

"That's nice of you." Harry smiled at her, nudging Draco. "I know Neville."

Draco let out an "oh" as the realization hit him. " _That_ Neville?" he asked, feeling pity. 

"You both know him?" the Hermione girl asked, suddenly looking more cheery. "What are your names, then?"

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he said. He let a smirk fall on his lips as he pointed at his friend. "And he's Harry Potter."

"Oh." The girl tilted her head, entirely unphased by either of their names. "Well, if you'd like to help find the toad, that would be lovely." 

"Er..." Harry murmured, not seeming entirely enthusiastic to assist his unfortunate friend. 

Then, a pudgy, freckled boy stumbled over to their compartment. A squishy toad was squirming in his hands. 

"I found it, Hermione!" he exclaimed. 

"Oh, fantastic!" she replied. Then, she turned to Harry and Draco. "Do you know these two?" she inquired, pointing at them. 

Neville turned to face them, too. "Oh, hi, Harry!" he said, waving awkwardly, taking one hand off of the toad.

And then the warty creature leaped out of his hand and out of the compartment. Neville cried in protest and went chasing after it again. 

Hermione sighed. "I give up. May I sit with you?" she asked. 

"Sure," Harry said. 

"Do you really not know who Harry Potter is?" Draco asked at the same time. 

The girl blinked. "No. Is he so big headed that I should?"

Harry laughed at that. "I'm not a big deal, really," he told her. 

Draco scoffed. "No, he's merely the hero of the wizarding world," he said sarcastically. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I didn't read that in _Hogwarts: A History,"_ sheremarked cooly. "I don't believe you." 

"It's an out-dated book," Draco told her airily. "You'll learn about Harry soon enough." He realized she was a muggleborn. Father didn't particularly like muggleborns, but Mother always said that Dumbledore wanted them to treat them fairly. So, Draco didn't say anything about it.

She merely harrumphed and apparently decided to change the subject. 

"Which house do you want to get Sorted into?" she inquired. "I here Gryffindor is the best. Ravenclaw doesn't sound too bad; very smart people. But I hear Slytherin is very, very bad--"

It was Harry who cut her off first, surprisingly. Not Draco. 

"That's not fair." He scowled and glared at her "No House is better than another."

Draco nodded. "My parents are Slytherins, and they're war heroes." It was stretching the truth a little, as far as he knew... But what would a muggleborn know?

Harry grinned in agreement. "Moony always told me not to trust someone based off of their house, even if Padfoot is so pro-Gryffindor," he added.

The girl tilted her head. "I'm sorry. So you both come from wizarding families?" 

"My family are all Gryffindors," Harry told her. 

"And mine are all Slytherin," Draco said proudly. "We're pureblood," he couldn't help but add. 

Harry kicked him and gave him a sharp look. 

Hermione cleared her throat. "Oh. I was raised by, er, muggles." 

Harry smiled at her. "That's fine. You'll have a lot to learn, though." 

She lifted her chin indignantly. "I know," she replied, "but I'm just as smart as anyone else."

"Ravenclaw!" Draco sang teasingly. 

Hermione shrugged. "Well, we'll see. I suppose any is just as good as the next." 

Harry nodded. "Moony says it's just where you fit in."

They spoke a little longer, eventually deciding they had to change into their robes before they arrived. It was in good timing, too, becauss the train slowed to a stop not long after. 

They gathered their things and exited the train. 

Draco took in the fresh, cold air. The sky was darkening and the air smelled like moisture. The castle loomed bright and mysterious across the lake. 

He was at Hogwarts. 

Draco, Harry, Hermione, and the other first-years were ushered by Harry's giant friend Hagrid into a row boat to cross the lake. It was cold, wet, and terrifying. 

He didn't care if it was a right of passage. It was unnecessarily uncomfortable. He would have to tell his father about it. 

But soon they were on sweet dry land, and were led into the giant foyer of the castle. A teacher and a few ghosts were there to greet them and tell them the basic rules. 

Draco hung close to Harry. It was comforting to have him there, especially when so many people were giving him dirty looks. He ignoted then as best as he could. 

They were finally brought into the Great Hall, where there were already lots of students sitting down at each of the House tables.

"Look at the ceiling," Harry whispered, pointing up.

Draco looked. It reflected the night sky. Or perhaps it _was_ the night sky?

"It's enchanted," Hermione said from behind them. Both Harry and Draco jumped in surprise.

"Where'd you come from?" Harry asked her, once he had stilled himself.

"I've been here all along," she huffed, "though I can see how you were distracted. This place is incredible! Not that I hadn't already read about it in--"

She was cut off by one of the teachers making an announcement. The first-years were about to be Sorted. 

There was excited, quiet chatter for a moment. Then the Sorting Hat began to sing, and the hall fell silent. 

Draco was extremely grateful that the Hat said nothing about Slytherins being inherently evil in its song. 

Then, the Sorting began.

Hermione was the first person Draco recognized to get Sorted. She sat on it, looking nervous but excited. It took a while for it to make a decision. Draco wondered what it was like...

"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat exclaimed. Hermione hopped off the stool looking pleasantly surprised. 

Then, Neville Longbottom. Surprisingly, Gryffindor. Harry clapped extra loudly for him. 

Draco was only a few people after Neville. It seemed to soon, and his heart began thumping in his chest. He managed, still, to strut cofidently up to the stool. 

 _You are a Malfoy,_  he chanted to himself over and again until he sat down.

The Hat landed on his head. 

_I know you are, but what am I?_

Draco didn't know why he was so surprised to hear it talk to him.  _  
_

_I Sorted your parents_ , it said. _Slytherin all the way.... But you aren't them, are you? From what I can tell, they've changed since I Sorted them... It shows in you._

Draco stiffened. _So, am I Slytherin or not?_

_Hmm... Cunning, thoughtful, stubborn... Loyal, even... And do I see some bravery? Must be. But there's self-preservation there, too... And fear... What are you afraid of, boy?_

_Rejection. Loneliness._ The Hat pried the answer from him. 

_Oh, silly Malfoy. You will fit in fine, as you are most certainly--_

"SLYTHERIN!" The Hat boomed. Draco felt a shudder overtake him, and he met eyes with Harry as he got off the stool and stumbled towards the Slytherin table. 

He didn't know why, but for some silly reason, he thought he might have been Sorted into Gryffindor. Perhaps it was just the hope that he would get to stay with Harry. 

He took a seat at the far end of the table, already recieving hard glares from several devoted Death Eater families. But there were others who gace him much milder looks, and some who avoided him together. 

Theodore Nott joined him at the end of the Slytherin table. Then, severak more students were sorted. Pansy Parkison made it into Slytherin. 

And then Harry Potter was called forth. 

The Great Hall was hushed, and Harry stumbled up to the stool. The Hat looked far too big on him, and Draco couldn't see his face. 

To his surprise, it did not immediately scream, "GRYFFINDOR!" 

It took its time. Which was forever. How could there be so much debate? He was the Boy Who Lived, he was Padfoot's son... Of course he was Gryffindor. 

Or was that Draco's inner prejudice? Harry was smart. He could be in Ravenclaw. Or maybe he was a Hufflepuff; he acted like that some times. But surely there was no way--

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat screeched. 

Draco immediately stood up on impulse. The Hall was silent. He applauded, anyway. 

There was a feeble response. He thought he saw Hermiont at the Ravenclaw table clapping, too. 

Harry made his way to thr Slytherin table, looking dazed and confused. He sat down next to Draco, who clapped him on the back. 

Draco was about to congratulate him, but he couldn't find the words. Could he even congratulate him? What if Harry was enraged and devastated?

Harry met his eye and gave him a weak smile. 

"I think I got my wishes," he whispered, "but neither of them turned out how I expected."

Draco blinked. "What?"

"I got my wish. I just didn't expect to be a Slytherin."

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Harry had hardly eaten at the Feast. He mostly just poked at his plate and mumbled things. The only time he seemed vaguely in anything was during Dumbledore's feast, which was truthfully when Draco had paid the least attention. 

Then, he had run off towards the front of the Great Hall as soon as they were all dismissed. Draco chased after him. He didn't want to go back to the Slytherin dorms without him, now that he knew he didn't have to. 

"Harry, wait!" Draco cried, grabbing him by the sleeve of his robe. "Where are you going?" He demanded. 

Harry lurched backwards. "I have to see Dumbledore," he said urgently, pulling himself free and continuing on, slower this time. 

Draco felt a flutter of anxiety. Did Harry not want to be in Slytherin? Was he going to ask to be re-Sorted? He couldn't do that!

"Why?" Draco asked, picking up his stride and ducking in between other students, who were going in the opposite direction. 

Harry started going a little faster. "You can come, too," he said, "but we have to catch Dumbledore before he leaves!"

Draco sped up, too. That made sense. Neither of them knew where his office was. 

Dumbledore was still at a table where all the other teachers sat. He was speaking quietly with the woman who had brought them into the castle. She was old and bespectacled, and looked very stern. 

Dumbledore looked up at them and smiled, wrinkling his old face. He was not in his usual gray grobes, but in blue ones that were covered in stars and moons. 

"Draco, Harry. Welcome to Hogwarts!" he exclaimed. "How can I help you two?"

Harry looked uneasily at the woman. "I need to speak with you, Professor Dumbledore." 

Draco shrugged helplessly. He didn't know what else to do. 

"Of course," said Dumbledore. "Don't mind Professor McGonagall. We'll only be a minute." He continued whispering quietly with her for a few more minutes. 

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said, a little too formally. "Now, I must be off to my Gryffindors!" 

She left, leaving Draco and Harry alone with the Headmaster. He moved around the table to join them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. 

"Now, what can I do for you two?" he asked. The Great Hall was now empty, and his still voice rang out accross it. 

"No one will hear us, Professor?" Harry questioned, glancing about the room nervously. 

"Not a soul, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Except for Draco, of course, and I take it you don't mind him?" He laughed this time, louder. 

"He can stay, sir," Harry replied, giving Draco a smile. 

He smiled back, grateful to be included. 

"Good," Dumbledore affirmed. "Now, what's on your mind, Harry? I'm afraid if it has to do with the Sorting..." he trailed off, leaving Harry room to respond.

"It doesn't, sir," Harry told him. "It's about my parents." 

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows as if this intrigued him. "What would you like to know? I knew Lily and James quite well, you know," he said warmly. 

Draco was confused for a moment, but then he remembered. He wasn't used to the Potters being considered Harry's parents. They didn't raise him. 

Harry frowned in confusion, too. "No, not them, sir," Harry corrected. "I meant Remus and Sirius." 

Dumbledore laughed heartily, though Draco thought his eyes were cold. "Oh, of course! My mistake. What is it, then?"

"Well, someone came to talk to them right as I was leaving," Harry confessed. "She said her name was Rita Skeeter. I think she was a reporter." As he explained, he began to look more and more grave. 

Dumbledore looked concerned, too. "What did she say?" he questioned, beginning to pace back and forth. 

"She said lots of people had told her about us," Harry said quietly. "I think she's going to write about them. What should I do?" 

Draco was definitely confused now. He thought a it might be a good thing, considering that Harry hated keeping Padfoot and Moony secret. 

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "I think you shouldn't worry about it, my boy." He frowned, but continued. "Enjoy yourself here and take good care of yourself. I will deal with it."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry smiled weakly. "But... What if I want her to do it? What if I want everyone to know Moony and Padfoot are my dads?" he seemed worried. Knowing Harry, Draco bet he was thinking that he was bad for wanting that.

"I think there are much less drastic ways of dealing with that," Dumbledore told him gently. "Though, I wonder how Skeeter found out about Godric's Hollow... It was under a Fidelius Charm..." He was speaking to himself now, quietly and under his breath. 

Draco finally felt he had opprtunity to speak up. "Professor," he said (because now Dumbledore _was_ his professor), "how do we get to the Slytherin dorms?" 

"Hmm?" Dumbledore asked, seeming to have been pulled from his thoughts. "Oh. I suppose I should escort you two, shouldn't I?" he inquired. "I wouldn't want you two getting lost."

"Thanks," the boys said. 

He took them both by the shoulder and led them through the halls. As they walked, he talked to them. 

"I admit I was surprised that you both turned out Slytherin," Dumbledore chuckled. "You were both raised so well, I was certain you'd be Gryffindors."

Draco cringed; it was a very harsh thing for the Headmaster to say. "Well-raised children can become Slytherins, too," he protested. 

"But of course!" The old man exclaimed. "My apologies. Sometimes the stigma seems to slide out of my mouth. After the War, I suppose we've all grown a bit suspicious of Slytherin."

Harry looked to the side to meet eyes with Draco. 

"But weren't you a Gryffindor, Professor?" Harry asked. 

Dumbledore laughed heartily. "You have got me there, Harry. Perhaps I do play favorites." His casual admittance bothered Draco deeply.

"But you'd never let that _influence_ you," a deep, smooth voice said from behind them. Both Draco and Harry jumped. 

When they turned around to look, they both screamed. 

A bloody, menacing ghost was floating behind them. 

Dumbledore hooted at that. "Don't mind the Bloody Baron, boys. He's only your House Ghost." 

The Baron glowered at them, and then drifted away into the wall. 

"W-why?" Draco asked, suddenly feeling very faint. 

Harry, too, seemed to be rather shaken. He grabbed onto Dumbledore's arm. "Padfoot and Moony never mentioned him."

"He doesn't talk much," Dumbledore informed them. "Unlike Nearly-Headless Nick. Did you meet him on the way in? He likes to greet the first-years."

Then, another ghost popped in front of them. This one wasn't so bloody.

"That I do!" he cried. "Hullo, boys. It's a shame you're not in Gryffindor... So I'll have to keep an eye on you." Then, he popped off his head and left it dangling there. He drifted away, as well. 

Draco grabbed onto Dumbledore as well. "How many ghosts are there?" he asked, now peering around anxiously for more. 

"Only six, that I know of," the Headmaster told them. "I don't think we'll meet any more tonight. That was a rare appearance for both of them. The only other we're likely to meet is Peeves." 

Draco knew who Peeves was. A poltergeist. Padfoot had told Harry and him all about him. 

Harry remembered, too. "I hope he doesn't show up, then."

They made it back to Slytherin House without anything else of much interest occuring. The Headmaster led them to a blank spot in the wall, which Father had told Draco about. 

"Squid hooks," the Headmaster told the wall.

The door gave way and revealed the common room. It was dark, cold, and very green. A few empty portraits and macabre decorations scattered the room. 

"I like it," Draco decided, peering around. "It feels like Halloween, mixed with Father's study." 

Harry laughed at that. "It does, doesn't it? Bit of a shipwreck feel, too, though. Look at the window." He pointed out the black square on the wall where they could make out the glow of underwater. It was lovely. Draco decided he would spend time at that window.

"Good," Dumbledore chuckled. "Shall I leave you two here, then?" he inquired. 

"Not yet," someone said. A slow, almost croaking voice. Draco knew that voice... 

Severus Snape swept into the room, all black robes and drama and menace. Draco had rarely seen him growing up, but he knew he was fairly close with his parents. All the same, he looked intimidating. 

"Potter is already getting special treatment, is he, Albus?" Snape demanded, swoooping down to glare at Harry. Draco felt rather sorry for him. 

Dumbledore set his hand on Harry's shoulder, as if in defense. "Not at all, Severus," he assured him. "He simply came to speak with me, and I kept these two overtime. I escorted them back, though, as you can see."

Snape took a momenr longer to glare at the silent Harry, and then stood back at full height. 

"I see." He sneered. "And what is Draco Malfoy doing with him?" 

Harry tried to stand tall, to look brave. "He's my friend, sir," he said firmly. 

"I wanted to make sure he was okay," Draco added, trying to be brave, too. It didn't work as well, though. 

"Potter had a crisis, then?" Snape inquired. 

Dumbledore nodded in affirmation. "It has been dealt with. Please be kind to these boys, Severus," he advised. "I must get going. Farewell." 

The Headmaster abandoned them, then, to the wrath of Severus Snape. 

"Poor Potter got Sorted into Slytherin." Snape scoffed, staring down at the boys sharply. "Is that what it was? And you couldn't get Sorted out of it?" 

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. I'm happy to be here." 

Draco almost smiled at that, but he didn't when he saw Snape's unforgiving gaze resting on him now, too. Instead, he said, "Me too, Professor."

"Well," Snape snarled, "I shan't go through repeating the rules simply because you two were late. Find a prefect or ask someone else."

Harry and Draco looked at each other and nodded. 

"Yes, sir," they said, turning to get away from Snape and find their dorms. 

"Not so fast," the Professor called after them, his voice cold and slow. They both froze in their tracks. 

"Potter," Snape began. "You will find little sympathy or special treatment from me. And if I see or hear of any _Gryffindor_ antics on your part, your punishment will be severe."

Harry only faltered for a second. Then, he looked up and met Professor Snape's eye. 

"Then it's a good thing I'm not a Gryffindor, isn't it?" 

* * *

Their first night in the Slytherin dorms was cold. Draco missed his bed at home, both because it was warm and because it was private. It was very hard to sleep with both Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle snoring from across the room. 

Harry wasn't sleeping, either. He was mostly tossing and turning.

"You awake?" Draco asked him, just for good measure.

"Yeah," Harry whispered back. "Why?"

Draco sighed. Harry could be a little thick sometimes. "So we can talk, you bugger," he grumbled. "What are you thinking about?"

Harry was quiet for a long moment. He was probably still thinking...

"I don't know what I'm going to tell Padfoot and Moony," he confessed at last. "I'm afraid."

That made sense. After all, Padfoot had always seemed certain that Harry would be a Gryffindor.

Draco lurched and sat up immediately, unable to suppress a gasp. 

"What is it?" Harry demanded. "Are you alright?"

He took a deep breath and slowly lowered himself back down into bed. 

"I'm fine," he said. "I just realized I don't have anyone to give my Gryffindor scarf to!" He had planned on giving it to Harry, but that obviously wasn't necessary.

Harry scoffed, apparently unimpressed. "I'm so glad that's all you have to worry about," he retorted. "And I'm keeping the Slytherin scarf you gave _me_!" 

For some reason, Draco felt curiously comforted by that. Perhaps Harry was embracin his Slytherin identity. 

"You really don't want to be Sorted into Gryffindor?" he asked. 

"No!" Harry exaimed in his hushed whisper. "I want to stay here, with you. This is what I wanted, remember?" 

Right. Draco had forgotten about that. 

"What did you mean by that, anyway? About your wish?" he inquired. 

"My birthday wish," Harry clarified. "I got to make two. One was that we would stay friends. The other was that I could tell people about Padfoot and Moony." As he explained, he sounded slightly awestruck. 

"I would have stayed friends with you if you were Gryffindor!" Draco protested. He had promised him that innumerable times. "And Moony and Padfoot didn't have to be reported on."

Of course Harry knew that, though. He would have to be stupid not to!

"I know," Harry said. "But this is how it turned out. All I have to worry about is Padfoot and Moony. I'll be fine."

Draco decided Harry was right. He would be fine. 

"Then what will you do about your dads?" he asked. 

Harry let out a muffled whimper. 

"I don't know."

* * *

Their first weeks of classes were exciting for the most part. Draco had never really had to follow a strict schedule before. At school, he was always supposed to be doing something, and he was never bored. 

Well, except for in History of Magic. The professor in that class was a ghost, and he kept droning on even if everyone in the room was napping (which was both good and bad). They shared that class with the Hufflepuffs, so it wasn't too exciting.

He was enjoying Potions class, because he was good at it. Father had taught him already the potions they had gone over, and he knew all of the techniques. Professor Snape congratulated him on it. 

Harry hated Potions, though. He had good reason; Snape truly did seem to hate him. He was constantly calling on Harry for answers that no one knew, and insulting him in front of the entire class. By the end of the week, Draco was beginning to wonder if staying parteners with Harry in that class would make his grade go down. 

And the worst part was, Harry wasn't even bad at Potions. Neville was way worse. 

His other classes were good, both for him and Harry. 

Transfiguration with the scary-looking Professor McGonagall wasn't half bad, even if she clearly favored the Gryffindors. They hadn't gotten to Transfigure anything yet, but it was always fun to watch the Professor do it. 

Charms with Flitwick and the Ravenclaws was alright. They shared that class with Hermione, and Draco quickly learned she was a complete know-it-all... Even for Ravenclaw standards. She was always first to raise her hand, and she never got an answer wrong. The other Ravenclaws seemed to like her enough even for it, though, and she seemed happy. She made it a point to sit with Draco and Harry in Charms, and in Herbology, which they also shared. 

"I heard things about you, Harry," Hermione whispered to them one Herbology class. They were busy sorting through roots, so she told them it was alright to talk. 

"Oh?" Harry asked. "What about?"

"Did you figure out how famous he is yet?" Draco inquired, letting bored indifference lace his tone. 

Hermione frowned and accidentally tore one of the roots. She seemed flustered. 

"I've heard things about you, too, Draco," she warned, "and I don't think you have a right to keep such a big head on. Your family did bad things."

Draco laughed lightly despite the discomfort growing inside of him. "Well, aren't you glad I haven't done anything?" he inquired. "Besides, I've never seen them do anything bad. I bet it's just people like Parkinson making up stories." He bit his lip, hoping it was true. What had Mother and Father done?

That seemed to settle her. "Of course," she replied, "I heard Dumbledore approves of yoir family. That's why he helped your Father after..." she trailed off and smiled at Harry. 

"After Lily and James were murdered by Voldemort," Harry finished for her. "I know. But he's not around anymore, and I have Padfoot and Moony to take care of me." 

"Right," Hermione said, apparently not knowing who Harry meant by Padfoot and Moony. Not one to seem ignorant, she didnt ask. Instead, she continued, "You defeated You-Know-Who. That's what everybody says. You're a hero!" 

Draco laughed. "And he's in Slytherin now! What do people think of that?"

He wanted to know because no one had the guts to tell him or Harry yet. All-knowing Hermione most likely knew what they thought. Right?

She simply blushed and stared down at the roots she was sorting. "I don't know," she confessed, "because I read all of this in a book."

Both Harry and Draco laughed at that. Of course she did. 

"But I'll read about Slytherin House," she told them. "I haven't figured out what's so bad about them."

Draco knew exactly why people didn't like Slytherins. More or less, that was. He didn't exactly _understand_ why... Unless he thought about the Slytherins that were mean to him or Harry. But mean bullies were in every House. 

Later that week, Draco had been in the library when he overheard some Gryffindors murmuring about Harry. They were a few years older than him, and they were wondering what had turned Harry "Dark."

"He had the Hat on for so long," one said. 

"I wonder what other houses it was trying to choose from?" another inquired.

"I bet he wanted to go into our House. Hid family were all Gryffindors!" a third proclaimed.

"No," the first argued, "I don't think he did. I bet something made him go Dark, and now he likes it."

"He's only eleven!" the third protested.

"You think killing Voldemort made him go bad?" the second asked.

Draco had drifted away and tried to forget about it. They were being daft. Harry was just as good and not Dark as anyone else.

He still hurt for Harry, though. And himself. What _did_ make people think Slytherins were so bad? 

Hermione had an answer for it next Herbology class when they brought it up. 

"It's because of the War," she explained. "I read a book on it last night. It didn't say it specifically, but Slytherins didn't have much prejudice stacked up against them until most of them becamr Death Eaters." 

Draco wondered what book she had read and how long it had taken her. She probably had known nothing about the War beforehand, and she probably could have just asked someone.

"That's what Dumbledore said," Draco said dryly.  

"And it doesn't fix my problem!" Harry complained.

"What problem?" Hermione asked.

Draco nudged Harry as if to ask for permission, and judging by his grunt, he decided it had been granted. 

"Harry's parents are Gryffindors, and they don't yet know he's a Slytherin," he explained quietly. 

"And judging from their stories," Harry murmured, "they've never liked Slytherins." He looked terribly sour at this, and Draco didn't blame him. 

"House competition?" Hermione suggested unhelpfully. 

They both just rolled their eyes with her. 

"Who are your parents, Harry?" she asked at last. "Aren't they dead?"

Harry dropped his voice to a whisper. "My parents now are my dad's old friends, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black." He sounded a little too giddy to tell someone. 

Draco gave Hermione a warning look. "But they don't want anyone to know, so Harry has to keep it secret."

Harry huffed. "But there's a reporter who might tell the world!" he said excitably. He usually swung between dread and excitement regarding the matter, Draco thought. 

Hermione had been intrigued by this, and they ended up explaining the entire story to her. Over the course of a few days, they managed to tell the entire story of their friendship, as well, and a bit about Draco's family, too. 

Draco felt bad about pulling her away from the other Ravenclaws so much, but he also didn't mind. He was fairly certain that he and Harry had just made their first new friend together. 

At the end of their second week at Hogwarts, she finally said to Harry, "Why don't you just write your parents and tell them?"

Draco didn't know how to tell her that it wasn't so simple, but Harry definitely did.

"Padfoot might storm in and demand I be re-Sorted," he said gravely, staring down at thd floor.

"And that would be no good," Draco affirmed bitterly.

So, that was one of many points at which they were at a loss. 

Another one of those points was how to get along with the Slytherins. Many of them not only hated Harry, but also Draco.

They usually just sneered at Harry and Draco wherever they went and called them names. They tried their best to ignore it, and Blaise was always with them in the dorms and the Great Hall for support. He didn't say much, but he didn't say anything mean. He even apologized to Draco for ripping up his drawing when they were little.

"It's fine," Draco assured him. He pulled a drawing out of his notebook and handed it to Blaise. "Here, take this."

It was a drawing of the mermaid they had spotted from the common room window one afternoon. It was underwater, so they saw those occasionally.

"Whoa," Blaise said. "It's ugly."

"Hey!" Draco whined, ready to snatch the paoer back.

Blaise clung it to his chest. "I meant that it's realistic!" he protested. "I want to keep it."

And so Draco made his second new friend. 

From then on, Blaise almost always was with him and Harry. Mostly in their dorm, the dining hall, and the common room. He was surprisingly clever, and they enjoyed joking with him. When Hermione wasn't able to help with homework in the library, they collaborated with him for help in the common room.

So, even if some people didn't like the fact he and Harry were Slytherin, or hated them for not being Slytherin enough, they were starting to fit in. Everything was working out okay.

Except for Harry hadn't written Padfoot and Moony yet, and they didn't know when or if that Rita Skeeter reporter was going to write about them. It was certainly a problem for Harry. 

Which meant that Draco was all the more determined to fix it. He would have to make Harry write that letter. 

To do so, he took a piece of advice Mother had once given him: 

_Lead by example._

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Lucius couldn't help but smile the day he recieved his first letter home from Draco. It had been two weeks, and he had been beginning to worry. His worries were relieved now, though. 

> _Dear Father,_
> 
> _Hogwarts is fantastic._
> 
> _First off, you should know I am a Slytherin. Which you expected. It's been great so far. There are a lot of other people in the House that think we're traitors, but I mostly ignore them._
> 
> _I really am loving it here. Why? Well, you know most of the reasons... In particular, I like watching out the window under the lake. I spotted a mermaid the other day, and one of the Prefects told me I might see the Squid one day!_
> 
> _I also am enjoying Potions classes. Professor Snape says that you have taught me well. He also says Harry is a spoilt brat, though, so I'm not sure what to think of him yet._
> 
> _Speaking of which, in case you don't already know, I also love Slytherin because my best friend was sorted into it._
> 
> _No, not Blaise Zabini. Or anyone else._
> 
> _Harry got sorted into Slytherin, Father. Harry Potter is a Slytherin._
> 
> _I wonder what Padfoot thinks of that! Ha!_

Lucius dropped the letter after that. He could hardly go on. His mind was spinning. 

Harry Potter, the bane of the Dark Lord, was a Slytherin.  _  
_

Lucius began to laugh. Perhaps his son hadn't done so poorly in choosing friends. It certainly was an interesting surprise...

He wondered if Sirius knew. It didn't matter so much if Remus did; he was much more reasonable. But Sirius? _Ha_ indeed. 

Whatever twisted side of him that remained wished he could have been there to see the reaction. The clever side of him said that he still could, if only he invited them over. Just mentioning it would surely invoke a reaction from Sirius...

"Are you _laughing_ , dear?" Narcissa asked, appearing in his doorway. He startled and turned to face her. 

"Perhaps I am," he murmured, standing up. He strode over and took her hand, leaning in to kiss her. As much as he missed his son already, his absence most certainly improved the quality of his love life. 

Narcissa hummed and broke away. "Something good, then. Did you get a promotion?" she asked. 

He shook his head and kissed her again. "Better," he whispered. "But before we get to that, why don't we owl Sirius and Remus? It would be nice to have them over for dinner."

Narcissa stared at him curiously, but she did not object or call him insane. Instead, she merely said, "Good idea. I do miss Cousin Sirius. And we need company; it feels so empty without our son."

Lucius smiled warmly at her, realizing that he agreed. He even privately admitted to himself that Remus wasn't half-bad; he made for good intellectual conversation. 

Yes. Why couldn't they be friends with Harry's parents? And why nor have fun with it, too, and rub it in their faces that their son turned out to be a... snake?

He smirked involuntarily. 

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "Care to share?"

He saw no reason to continue holding back the information. "Harry was Sorted into Slytherin," he told her.

She took a step back. "What?" 

Lucius didn't blame her for her disbelief. He was still in shock himself. It was an outlandish prospect; he had hardly considered it in all the years he had known the boy. 

"Harry Potter is a Slytherin," he reiterated, this time taking both of her hands and grinning shamelessly. 

"I heard you the first time," she replied, "but I'm not sure I believe you. Is this why you want to have them over?" she asked, pursing her lips into a frown. 

"Perhaps," he mumbled, avoiding looking her in the eye. "But aren't you curious, too?" 

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Of course I am. Where did you learn this, though?"

"From our favorite son, of course," Lucius teased, turning around to retrieve the letter. "I haven't read the entire thing yet; I was put at a bit of a stop after that first revelation," he confessed. 

"I should say so," Narcissa murmured, taking the letter from him amd reading it over. She was a much faster reader than he was, and went through the entire thing. 

"The second page was for me," she said happily. "And I am so glad he and Harry are in the same House. I was worried what would become of them."

Lucius agreed with her silently, though he was more excited by the prospects of what The Boy Who Lived could do for Slytherin House. It would certainly change the way people thought of them...

Or the way they thought of Harry. He would have to be a little more sensitive, then, with Sirius. He was sure that even if he couldn't, Narcissa could calm them down.

"Yes, darling," Lucius agreed. "Draco must be most pleased. However, I wonder how Harry is taking it?" he mused. 

Narcissa slid past him into his study. "Let's find out," she suggested. "I will owl Sirius and Remus and invite them over, and you finish reading the letter and reply to your son."

Lucius took the letter from her and continued reading. Draco claimed to be having plenty of fun, and a few of the Slytherins were warming up to him. He was also spending some time with Blaise, though he seemed to prefer Harry. He also had a few acquaintances in Ravenclaw, and at least one in Gryffindor via Harry. No Hufflepuffs were mentioned... Unsurprisingly. 

He had little to say of classes yet, besides that he didn't think it right that such a boring ghost as Professor Binns should have to teach the same class for all of eternity. Not for him, but for the students. He also admitted that McGonagall terrified him, and he thought Herbology to be stupid, and that the Great Hall's food was "alright."

And that was most of the letter. Lucius set himself to writing a response.

* * *

 "He hasn't written us," Sirius whispered, pulling the sheets up to his neck. "It's been three weeks."

"Go to sleep," Remus replied insistently, rolling over. "The owl's just probably taking a while."

He didn't believe that himself, though. But Sirius was dreadful when he was worried, and he didn't want to foster that. They had enough to be concerned about. 

"You can't sleep either," Sirius countered, rolling onto his side and poking Remus in the back. "You haven't since he left. Except for last week, after your transformation." 

And that hardly counted. The transformation was exhausting; of course it made him sleep. He had been just as worried as Sirius, though.

"I know," he muttered. He stared absently at the ceiling, which danced with shadows from the branches outside. Worry flickered inside of him as he imagined what might happen were Skeeter to publish anything about them.

"What are we going to do with Skeeter?" Sirius asked him, as if reading his mind. "She's owled me twice this week, asking for more interviews."

Skeeter was a bitch, Remus decided. She hadn't published anything yet, claiming she needed more support from her editors. But she had somehow managed to scour all kinds of information about them, and that was disconcerting enough.

And she had manipulated them into talking to her, into giving away more information. She had enough on them to write a book, he thought.

But why would she do that?

"She's an attention seeking monster," Remus said, answering both Sirius and himself. "We don't give her any attention. We take a Portkey far away from here. Canada, maybe." He thought they might like Canada... There weren't many concentrated areas of wizards. They would be left alone there. Not to mention that he heard they were more tolerant of gay couples there. 

Sirius let out a groan as if he didn't approve of the idea. As much as they travelled, Remus knew he was a homebody at heart, and wouldn't want to leave Godric's Hollow. He also cared significantly less about the publicity issue than Remus. 

"After Harry writes us, though," Sirius clarified, signalling his reluctance passively. "We have to make sure he's alright."

Remus heaved a big sigh and took Sirius' hand. "He'll be fine."

They were quiet for a while longer. After a half hour, he heard Sirius' breath even out as he drifted into sleep. Remus slipped out of consciousness not long after, into a world of scattered dreams of newspapers he couldn't decipher. 

They woke up late the next morning when there was a tapping at their window. 

Remus groaned and groggily climbed out of bed to let it in. 

"Is it Harry?" Sirius asked hopefully. 

Remus didn't think so. It definitely wasn't Hedwig... It was an eagle owl. He opened the window, letting in a gust of cold morning air, and the great big creature hopped in and perched on the window sill. It was soaking wet from rain, and it glared at Remus with big, bright, intelligent eyes like it was _his_ fault for the rain. 

"Hello, Orpheus," he grumbled, recogzing it and taking the letter from Lucius Malfoy's owl. The bitter creature pecked his hand and flew away. Clearly, it thought the rain to be better company than him and Sirius. 

"Not Harry," Sirius inferred, and slumped back into bed and covered his eyes. 

"Nope." Remus broke the seal and ripped open the envelope. He skimmed it over. 

"The Malfoy's want us over for dinner on Saturday," he announced when he was done. 

Sirius groaned loudly. "Why? They hate us." 

Remus huffed in agreement and crawled back into bed. "I think they miss their son, too," he said quietly. In an attempt to soothe Sirius, he added, "Draco wrote them and said he and Harry are having a fabulous time."

"You think Harry's forgotten us, then?" Sirius asked glumly. "He's having such a grand time that he hasn't written us yet." 

It was a sound theory. Remus knew that he and his friends had hardly written home... Why should Harry?

"Probably, Padfoot," he replied quietly. "So now we can worry about other things."

Sirius laughed wryly. "And party hard with Lucius and Narcissa," he grumbled. "Which, I might add, is not what I had in mind for kid-free fun."

Remus laughed, too. Even wlthout their sons around, he doubted a Malfoy dinner party would be less different than he remembered. More fancy, perhaps.

"Well, should we go?" Remus asked. He personally wanted to. He missed familiar company already, and was a bit bored since they hadn't gone travelling yet. They were too anxious to travel.

Sirius propped himself up and gave Remus a long look, eventually emitting a groan of defeat. 

"Yes." He sighed dramatically. "Because I can tell you want to go."

"Good," Remus replied, sitting up. "Then let's make some tea and write our reply. And maybe find something relaxing to do." He got out of bed and cruelly ripped all the sheets off of Sirius as he went.

"Hey!" He wailed. "What if I didn't want to get up yet?" he demanded. 

Remus cast him a disapproving look and then cast a tempus charm. "It is eleven in the morning, Black. You're getting up _now_ ," he ordered. 

Sirius complied and stumbled out into the living room after Remus. They made tea and wrote a friendly letter to the Malfoys, accepting their invitation. They had just finished when there was a knock at the door. 

"Shit," they both whispered. 

Remus had more clothes covering him than Sirius, so he went to answer the door. Before he could get there, the person knocked several more times. "Coming!" he cried. 

He opened the door a crack and poked his head out. He was not pleased by who he saw. 

"Hello," Rita Skeeter purred, stepping into the doorframe with a devilish smirk. "Mind if I come in? We have some things to discuss."

He glared at her for a moment, but realized he had little choice but to let her in. He grudgingly swung the door open. 

"Clothe yourself, Sirius!" he called warningly, noticing Skeeter's camera. 

By the time he got back to the living room, Sirius had draped a blanket over himself and was hunched over a magazine, drinking a cup of tea. Unsurprisingly, Skeeter snapped a few shots of him. 

Remus had to admit they wouldn't be bad pictures. If he didn't loathe the reporter, he might've asked for a copy.

"What do you want?" Sirius asked Skeeter, setting his tea on the table. Remus sat down next to him and wrapped an arm around him. 

"A few photographs," she said casually, snapping a few more pictures of them. Remus winced from the flash and tried to cover his face. Sirius raised the blanket defensively to shield them both. 

"You don't ask first?" Sirius inquired, now having cloaked Remus in the blanket, too.

"Don't have to," Skeeter replied. "You've already consented to at least one interview, which means by Ministry regulations I can publish what I want."

Remus grimaced, realizing at that point there was no way of getting out of Skeeter's article.

"And whose interest was that decree made in?" he grumbled sourly.

Skeeter ignored him. "Have you heard from the young Mr. Potter yet?" she inquired, setting down her camera.

Sirius sat up straighter. "No. Have _you_?" he demanded. 

She smiled absently at them and twirled a finger in her hair. "Sadly, no," she admitted. "I legally don't have access to anything at Hogwarts except for events like Quidditch."

"Good," Remus spat. He would hate for any gossip to start spreading about his son in the papers. He had honestly never hated the media so much before. 

Once again, he was ignored. Skeeter pulled out her quill again. "Any last things you want me to add to the article?" she asked them. "It's practically done; all I needed were the pictures," she added. 

Remus and Sirius both answered at the same time. 

"That we don't approve of this article," Remus growled.

"That I will personally fight anyone who says I'm not a good parent," Sirius snarled. 

Skeeter raised her eyebrows and dropped her quill. "Okay," she sighed, exasperated, "I already have both of those things written at least six times. Anything _else_?" 

They exchanged a careful glance. 

"What's your angle here, Skeeter?" Sirius asked, leaning forward and glaring at the reporter. 

"Are you against us?" Remus questioned. "Are you trying to rile up your readers?" 

Skeeter crossed her legs and wiped at an imaginary tear. "I would never do anything to hurt you two angels," she simpered. "I want the world to see that you and Harry are just an ordinary family unit. I've been trying to make you seem loveable, but you're making it so _hard_ for me." Her voice almost cracked at that, and Remus had to admit she was a pretty good actor. 

"So, no matter what you print, it's our fault if it's bad?" Remus scoffed. 

Apparently, she was set on ignoring everything he said. Sirius took incentive to reply.

"How can we seem more loveable," he asked with a forced smile, "since this article is apparently unavoidable?"

Skeeter grinned maliciously at them.

"Oh, there's nothing you can do," she told them. "I already have two articles written: the positive spin and the negative spin. And I'm choosing based off of how successful either one will be." She gave them a curious look. 

Remus knew what she meant. She was saying, _Convince me._

He returned her challenge with a sly grin. 

"I'm guessing the positive goes to _Witch Weekly_ , and the negative goes to the _Daily Prophet,_ " Remus decided, narrowing his eyes.

Skeeter smirked. "Very clever."

"And I'm suggesting, given the readership, that you could sell a slightly altered positive spin to the _Quibbler_ , too," he continued. 

"I hadn't thought of that," she mused, tilting her head, "though it lacks the power of an exclusive..."

Sirius glared at her, cutting her off. "Fuck exclusive. Do two positives." He slammed his fist on the table. 

Remus carefully took his hand, gave it a quick squeeze, and continued talking. 

"You get a wider readership if you do two," he reminded her, "and that's good if you're in it for the fame. Besides... Is our story really something the _Prophet_ would cover?" 

He was trying his best to convince her only to publish the positive. He hoped he was being smart enough for her.

"You haven't seen the negative," she said quietly, her eyes lighting with something akin to greed. "It's nasty enough for them."

Sirius, apparently eager to remedy his bout of aggression, lowered his voice as well. 

"But negative articles hurt your name. People won't want to give you information anymore if you do too many of those," he countered. 

Remus gave him a smile. He had a good point. 

Skeeter took a long moment to stare at them. Then, she grinned again. 

"I'd call you smart," she said, "but I'm the _real_ genius here." She tucked her things back into her bag and stood up. "Mind if I snap a few more candids? Perhaps find a few of your family photos with Harry." She began wandering around the room and inspecting framed pictures. 

Remus hastily got up. "Wait, what do you mean?" he demanded, snatching a photograph out of her hands. 

She turned slowly to face him and snapped a photograph. She gave him a flashy smile. 

"There was no negative article," she informed him. "I just got you to give full, encouraging consent to publish _two_ stories about you." She laughed cheerily. "Who was convincing who here, Remus?"

He glared at her, felt anger building in his chest, felt the wolf snapping and he was reaching for his wand--

He felt Sirius grab both of his wrists from behind. 

"Leave her be," Sirius whispered, his breath prickling the hair on the back of Remus' neck. "Just let her take the photographs and she'll go."

He nodded stiffly. He was at a loss for words, feeling distinctly cheated. 

When she was gone, Sirius became enraged, too.

"Fucking Slytherin snake!" he screamed.

* * *

Remus and Sirius seemed especially bitter when they came to dinner. Lucius was slightly surprised; Narcissa had told him their response had been pleasant enough. 

There was minimal conversation at dinner. Not even arguing. Lucius hadn't yet found a good opportunity to tell them about their son. Guilt was nagging at him, and he was beginning to think (given their dismal mood) they either already knew, or they didn't need to know. 

Then, at last, Narcissa spoke up, Merlin bless her. 

"Have you heard from Harry?" S=she inquired innocently. 

Remus looked up sharply at them, and Sirius stabbed at his steak with extra gusto. 

"No," they both said. 

"Oh." Narcissa cleared her throat and returned her focus to her own food. 

Lucius sighed and set down his cutlery with an excessively loud _clink_.  

"The tension in here is thick enough to cut with a knife," he grumbled, taking a long look at each of them. "I generally have enough of that at work."

He got no response, and so he resignedly continued eating. 

A house elf popped into the room. "Can Dobby be getting Master or Master's guests anything?" he asked timidly. 

Lucius froze. "No, Dobby. I think we are satisfied," he growled, more angry at his guests than the elf.

The elf nodded anxiously and quickly exited the room. Lucius was rarely so angry anymore, and he was magically bound not to act violently, but he was sure the elf remembered his temper from his Dark days. 

Remus coughed lightly. 

Sirius sighed. "How is Draco?" he inquired, giving Remus a sour glance.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, but chose to be tactful with his words. "He'a doing wonderfully," he said neutrally. "He's enjoying his classes, and claims to be having great fun with Harry." 

At that, Sirius let out some dry laughter, and even Remus smiled. 

"They've worked out their House differences, then?" Sirius asked, grinning and shaking his head. 

Lucius bit his lip, sensing opportunity here. This was what he had been waiting for. He suppressed a smirk. 

"About that--" he began, but was cut off by a kick from Narcissa. 

She abruptly swallowed a mouthful of food and looked up at Sirius. "You know those two," she said quickly and smiled warmly. "They will do _anything_ to stay friends."

Lucius stared down at his plate and suppressed laughter. An interesting choice of words on Narcissa's part, but pehaps she was right about needing to be delicate with them. 

There was more silence, though Lucius was now more frustrated with it than angry. They finished their plates, and then the house elves hurried in to clear the table to supply them with desert. They were antsier than usual; Dobby had probably told them Lucius was in a foul mood. 

Over stewed fruit and cake, they shared stiff conversation. Lucius was beginning to wonder if something was the matter with their guests, or if they genuinely disliked Narcissa and himself. 

"Narcissa," Sirius began, "do you ever read _Witch Weekly?_ " he inquired. 

"Padfoot!" Remus hissed, glaring at his partner. 

Sirius shrugged. "It was an innocent question. Do you, Narcissa?"

Lucius rolled his eyes. "She does _not_." He scoffed, curling his lip. He liked to imagine his wife did not engage in petty activities like reading gossip magazines. And even if it were a lie, he would prefer his guests not to know that copies of that gossip magazine existed in his house.  

Narcissa kicked him under the table again. "I do _so_ ," she exclaimed haughtily. "What about it, Sirius? Do you?"

Sirius laughed and Remus rolled his eyes. 

"Can't say I do, Cousin," he replied, setting down his fork. "But I have a copy of next week's edition if you're interested."

Remus turned on him. "I _told_ you not to bring it!" he exclaimed. 

"Thank you, Remus," Lucius said wryly, glaring at Sirius. 

"Nonsense, you two!" Narcissa chided. "It's only a magazine. May I ask how you got a hold of an unreleased copy?" she asked pleasantly. 

Remus and Sirius shared a glance, apparently agreeing to tell her. 

"It's about us," Remus said, exhaling loudly and looking terribly unhappy. 

Sirius pulled something out of his pocket. "Look at that," he said, snapping the magazine and revealing the cover photo. 

It was a picture of Harry's face from his last birthday. Next to it was a caption written in obnoxious white lettering. 

_Harry Potter's Secret Life: Where Has He Been This Whole Time?_

"Oh dear." Narcissa sighed, gaping at the paper. 

Remus dropped his head to the table. " _Oh dear_ is right."

Sirius handed them the magazine, and Lucius and Narcissa flipped through to find family pictures of Harry and Remis and Sirius. As well as some newer ones with just Remus and Sirius together. 

In their underwear, Lucius realized with a grimace. At least they were covered slightly by a blanket. They appeared to be cuddling on their sofa. 

Narcissa, however, was focused on the article. 

"Harry Potter has been raised in a very unique way," she read aloud. "While being lucky enough to have two loving parents, he rarely was at home. Black and Lupin often take the boy travelling, though in recent weeks they have ceased to, as Harry has just begun his first year at Hogwarts." She looked up from the paper and looked at them expectantly. 

"You know we didn't want this being published," Remus grumbled. "We wanted his life to be private."

Narcissa shrugged. "At least your words haven't been twisted. This seems to be a very positive article."

Sirius grinned. "Yeah, it is. Keep reading."

Narcissa sighed and continued. "Part of the reason for their travelling was to keep Harry away from the press. They claimed to have wanted to supply him a normal life, and thus always were taking him to new places." She paused before going on, looking displeased. "They were worried they would recieve hateful reactions from people who knew of the nature of their relationship. Black and Lupin are both homosexual, though they clearly are both excellent parents. Perhaps now that they are out in the open, they will serve as a good example to the community of an alternative family." She finished reading, and gave them a look.

"What?" Sirius demanded. "Don't you agree?" he inquired. He must have been waiting for her to validate the article's claim.

Narcissa sighed and set down the magazine. "I've told you before that it didn't matter to Lucius and I, didn't I? You are excellent parents," she told him. She neglected to tell them that neither of them had meant it that first time, Lucius noted.

But she clearly meant it this time, and he realized that he agreed with her. Yes, Black may have been a pain, but it was not because he was in a relationship with Lupin. And they had both proven to be good parents to Harry, despite Narcissa and his own early doubts.

Besides, they had raised a Slytherin. Clearly, they were doing something right.

"Congratulations," Lucius commended them. "You deserve every bit of praise in that article." 

Sirius leaned back and stared. "You think so, Malfoy?" he asked, blinking slowly. 

"I don't care if he does or he doesn't," Remus grumbled. "He's just saying that because he knows us. Other people won't be so kind."

Lucius smirked at them. He didn't care if Narcissa would get angry at him for speaking... Sirius had his fair share of gloating. Now it was his turn. 

"Come now," he said. "I'm being completely honest. Never have I appreciated your parenting skills so much as I have now." 

"What are you on about?" Sirius demanded. 

Lucius grinned mercilessly, feeling immensely satisfied with himself already. He ignored his wife's warning glare.

"I'm congratulating you, of course!" he exclaimed, folding his hands on the table. "What greater honor is there, than to have your son be a Slytherin?"

Both men blinked at him. Narcissa stiffened.

"Cut it out, Lucius," Remus snarled, disbelieving. "I'm upset as it is. I don't need your bad jokes riling me up."

Narcissa was already sitting back, realizing she could do nothing to prevent the ensuing storm. 

"What do you mean, Malfoy?" Sirius asked, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. Being a self proclaimed connoisseur of humor, he could probably tell Lucius wasn't joking. 

"Your son," Lucius replied cooly, his lips tipping into a sly smile. "He was Sorted into Slytherin."

Remus took a deep breath. "Is that true, Lucius?" he asked, now taking the role of the believer. He seemed relatively calm. He was, as always, the more reasonable of the two.

Sirius stood up, knocking over his wine glass as he went. Narcissa winced visibly at that.

"I don't believe you," he snarled at him, and his voice raised in volume. "You're just trying to get at me, aren't you? Well, you've stooped low, Malfoy! Low!" He shouted, enraged and in denial.

Lucius kept his composure, deciding to play passive-aggressive. "Such wonderful parents wouldn't be so angry with their son's Sorting, would they?" he sniped. "Surely you will accept him no matter his House. He's still your same son, after all." 

He was remaining as serious as he could. He wanted Sirius to feel like a hypocrite. He wanted to see him doubt himself.

Sirius took a step back, his face betraying everything Lucius had hoped for. "I don't care what House he's in!" he stammered defensively. "I'm pissed because you're _lying_. My son would never be a--a lying snake like you!" 

Narcissa stood. "Calm yourself, Cousin," she snapped. "My husband could have been more delicate, but he's not a liar. And it's presumptive to associate that simply with Slytherin House." She cut them a meaningful look. Lucius hoped they would be remembering Peter Pettigrew at that moment.

Lucius sent her a smile to thank her for her support, feeling pleased with himself. That is, until she sent him a glare that told him he would regret his actions for the foreseeable future. 

Sirius stilled, and stood behind Remus' chair. He didn't say anything. 

"It's true, then?" Remus asked. "That's why he hasn't been writing us?" He looked terrified, but also as if he had reached acceptance. 

Narcissa sighed and sat down. "Presumably."

At that, Sirius choked. "He's afraid to tell us, isn't he?" He shook his head, realizing the situation. He began to ramble. "Shit. I tried to be the opposite of my parents... Be a Gryffindor... But I've ended up isolating him. Just like they did to me." He let out a shuddering sigh, and suddenly looked very faint.  

Lucius pitied him. He also felt guilty... But how else could they have found out, if Harry wouldn't tell them?

Remus stood now, as well. "We can fix it, Pads," he said quietly. He turned to address Lucius. "Thank you for telling us. But I think we should go home now." 

Narcissa nodded. "Do so, then. Take care." 

Lucius didn't bother saying goodbye as they left. He realized they were already upset with him.  

As soon as they were alone, Narcissa turned to Lucius and smacked him. 

" _That_ was dreadful," she snapped. "What drove you to that? Haven't we discussed that you leave emotional manipulation at work?"

He ducked his had and sheepishly avoided her gaze. "I'm sorry, darling. I got carried away." He was only half-lying.

She turned away from him, and he felt a tiny pang of regret.

"Things are hard enough for them," she murmured. "I hope this doesn't complicate their situation very much."

Lucius realized there would be complications, if everyone reacted as negatively to Harry being a Slytherin as that. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

It seemed to take him forever, but eventually, Harry did write Padfoot and Moony. They wrote him back very quickly. Harry got the response the next day at breakfast. 

"What do they say?" Draco asked through a mouthful of porridge. He peered over Harry's shoulder to look. 

Harry jerked away from him before he saw anything. 

"They said they still love me," he muttered in reply. "And that they're very proud of me, and they hope I'm having lots of fun." He folded the letter and tucked it back into his pocket. 

"So that's that!" Draco exclaimed. "All better." He turned back to his food.

Harry began sipping his pumpkin juice. "Yeah," he murmured. "They're even okay with Skeeter's article." 

Draco spun back to face him. "Really?" He asked through a mouthful. He accidentally dribbled porridge all over his shirt. 

"Gods, Malfoy. Manners!" Blaise teased him. 

Draco flicked some at him. "Shut it, Zabini! Harry's dads are out now!" 

Blaise furrowed his brow and looked around the room. "What's that supposed to mean? I don't see any parents anywhere." 

Draco laughed at him. "That's not what I meant, dummy." He meant it teasingly, but Blaise still dropped his head and turned to talk to Theodore Nott. 

Harry nudged Draco and pointed. "Look. She's got the article. Why don't we ask her if we can see it?" 

Draco looked to see who he was pointing at. He realized it was Pansy, holding a magazine with Harry's face on the cover. She was grimacing like what she was reading was describing how to dissect a flobberworm.

"Nuh-uh." Draco crossed his arms. "We're not talking to Parkinson. She'll rip my nose off. She hates me, and her father hates mine." He shuddered as he remembered their interaction at Kings Cross Station, Mr. Parkinson staring down at him like he was filth.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. We have to find someone else who has it, then. It looks like it's  _Witch Weekly,"_ heconcluded, pushing up his glasses and peering across the table at Pansy.

She noticed and stuck her tongue out him. Then, she called over some other Slytherins. They started laughing at the magazine.

Draco knew Pansy was nasty, and she just proved it by deciding to make fun of Harry and his dads. 

"We have to get that magazine," he said darkly.

Harry tugged on his shoulder. "Come on. I bet Hermione reads it. Let's go ask her." 

That sounded like a good idea to Draco, so he agreed. They went to the Ravenas table, where Hermione was eating her breakfast over an open book and was discussing with a girl next to her. 

"Hermione!" Draco said, tapping her on the shoulder. 

She snapped around to glare at them. "What?" she demanded, looking displeased at their intrusion. The other Ravenclaws all stared at them, having gone quiet. 

Draco swallowed, not sure he liked all their stared. 

"Do you have a copy of _Witch Weekly_?" Draco asked her quietly. 

She looked at him incredulously. As did the rest of the table. 

"No!" she exclaimed. "I'm muggleborn, remember? And isn't that a gossip magazine?" She made it sound as though reading one were a crime against her own morality.

A few of the Ravenclaws sniggered. Draco turned red and embarrassed. How was he supposed to know? As far as he knew, all girls read gossip magazines.

Harry grabbed his elbow, pulling him back, and stepped forward. "Do any of you have a copy?" he asked the Ravenclaws. 

There was some silence, and a few of them looked around at each other.

"I have _Philosopher's Monthly_!" One piped up. 

Another one raised his hand. "I have a copy of _Magical Intellectual_!"

A first year grinned and lifted her magazine into the air. " _Astronomy Nightly_?" she asked them. 

A few older Ravenclaws offered their _Daily Prophets_. 

"No!" Draco yelled, glaring at them and covering his ears with his hands in frustration. "We need _Witch Weekly!"_

The Ravenclaw table fell silent. Draco heard Pansy's eruption of laughter from the Slytherin table and then scowled. 

"Worthless Ravenclaws," he muttered, turning around. He felt foolish.

"What was that?" Hermione demanded.

Draco spun back around, suddenly realizing his mistake and not knowing how to fix it. He gaped and stuttered. Harry came to his rescue.

"He meant--he meant practical," Harry stammered hastily. "Practical Ravenclaws. You guys are the best. Thanks." He stiffly took a step back.

Draco blinked in surprise as the Ravenclaws collectively turned back to what they were doing before he and Harry had arrived. Apparently, Harry's apology satisfied them.

The girl next to Hermione turned around to look at them. "My sister Parvati has a subscription to it," she said to them cooly. "I'll ask her for it. I have Defense with her next." 

"Oh," Harry said, relieved. "Thanks."

She shrugged. "No problem." She turned back to talk to Hermione. 

Draco then noticed the rest of the Great Hall was beginning to clear out. He grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him towards the Slytherin table. 

"Come on," he said. "We've got Defense with Squirrel and the Hufflepuffs." He grimaced and kept pulling him.

Harry wrenched free and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Don't call the Professor that," he replied. "And I _like_ Defense Against the Dark Arts." 

Of course Harry did. He was the Boy Who Lived. He didn't have the entire Hufflepuff class staring at him in terror whenever Squirrel said the word "dark." The entire class seemed to be hung over the fact that Draco's family had been Death Eaters. Even Quirrel seemed bitter about it.

"I bet you do like it," Draco mumbled as they left the Great Hall. "I bet you like his creepy head wrap, too."

Harry laughed and went along with the jest. "And the way he smells like garlic," he chortled. 

"Hmm," Draco muttered, a thought occuring to him. "Smelly, creepy, and very Anti-Death Eater. Must make you feel at home!" He exclaimed. 

Harry socked him in the arm, but couldn't verbally protest. They had to quiet down when they got into the classroom. 

As usual, Quirrel was a stuttering, smelly mess. He spent half the class babbling about vampires and the importance of preventative measures. 

"N-not only a-against v-v-vampires!" he exclaimed, waving an arm in the air dramatically. Draco got a strong whiff of garlic and gagged, barley listening.

"Next w-w-week we will g-go over preparing against P-Poltergeists!"

And that was the moment Harry and Draco and the rest of the Slytherins met Peeves. 

The pranking ghost swooped into the classroom with a cackle, startling all the students.

"Oh nooo! Oh _noooooo_!" he wailed, circling about the ceiling. "Quirrel doesn't like poor little Peeves! He wants to get you firsties to fight me!" He cried, turning to the professor and blowing a raspberry.

"O-out, Peeves!" Quirrel commanded feebly, squawking as the ghost got a little too close. "I d-d-didn't ask f-f-for you!" 

Draco suddenly had a very bad feeling.

Peeves stopped in mid-air. "You said poltergeist, though!" he cackled. Then, he swooped down to snatch away a Hufflepuff's book, nearly knocking her out of her chair.

They all screamed. 

"Oh, firsty, firsty!" Peeves laughed. "I don't mind firsties. But--" he dropped the book onto the ground, making it explode into a pungent smelling cloud--"I don't like _Quirrel_!"

The ghost swooped towards the cowering professor. Draco leaned back in surprise, and a bunch of Hufflepuffs screamed and got out of their seats. It looked like the ghost was about to pull off the professor's turban. 

Proffessor Quirrel wouldn't let that happen, though. In rare moment of bravery, raised his wand and screeched a spell at the ghost. 

Draco saw Harry clutch his forehead and scream. Several other students screamed, too, and a few here hiding under their desks.

The ghost had disappeared. The room fell silent. Everyone was staring at the professor, save for Harry, who was still bent over his desk in pain.

Quirrel was trembling. He turned to face the class. "I w-won't be teaching you that." He fell back into his chair. 

Then, Peeves reappeared and all chaos ensued. He started throwing glitter and colorful gobs of paint at the students. Pansy was the first one to be hit, orange splattering all over her face. She screamed, and several others did as well. 

Vincent Crabbe let out a spectacular scream when pink paint splattered onto his gut, and Blaise panicked as glitter exploded onto his head. Draco was snickering until he felt something collide with his chest, and saw that defenseless Harry's hands and head were covered in green and glitter.

Everyone by then tried to escape, screaming as they were pelted with rainbows. 

Draco grabbed Harry, who was still clutching his forehead, and dragged him out of the classroom with everyone else. Peeves followed them all out, his supply seemingly endless and his aim shockingly preciss. Draco felt some smack into his arms, and one hit him straight onto his behind. He was laughing along the way, though, realizing that Defense class had never been so fun. 

After a minute, Harry recovered, too, and by then they were far away from Peeves and the classroom. 

They were both covered in glitter and dyed with bright colors, though.

"You okay?" Draco asked him, inspecting the damage. 

Harry laughed wryly. "I'm fine. My scar started hurting in class, though." 

That concerned Draco. He tried to pull Harry's hair away to reveal the scar, but it was plastered in place by neon green paint and a clump of glitter. 

"You look awful." Draco giggled. 

"You look worse," Harry retorted, laughing as well. 

"Do not!" Draco protested. "Malfoys never look worse than anyone." He sniffed. 

Harry tried to hit him, but Draco ducked. 

"What class do we have next?" he asked. 

Harry's eyes widened and his smile dropped. "Potions," he whispered gravely. 

"Snape's going to love this." Draco snickered. He would probably just pick on Harry, even when thr entire Slytherin class arrived in a similar state.

"Do you think we'll have time to clean up? Our dorm is right next to his classroom." 

They decided they could make it if they ran to the dungeons, since Defense was clearly cancelled anyway. Apparently, though, they weren't the only Slytherins who had cleaning up in mind. All the other boys in their dorm were using the showers. 

Meaning that Draco and Harry were the only ones who hadn't cleaned off the paint and the glitter before class started. 

"My hair feels sticky," Harry whined as they shuffled into Potions. 

"Well, my butt is sparkling, so I feel your pain," Draco hissed. 

When they came in, all the Gryffindors snickered (except for Neville). So did Pansy and her friends, who had somehow managed to clean off completely despite their long hair. 

Snape noticed immediately. 

"What is the meaning of this, Potter?" he demanded, glaring at Harry sharply. 

"What about _him_?" Harry cried, pointing at Draco. Draco knew he wasn't being thrown under the bus, but if Snape hadn't noticed... He didn't notice. He glared at Harry.

Snape shook his head. "An innocent accomplice, I'm sure. Mr. Malfoy?" he asked, turning to Draco.

"It was Peeves, sir," Draco said defensively. "He got us." He self-consciously tried to pick the purple paint off of the right side of his face. 

"Peeves?" Snape scoffed. "And what did you do to provoke this?"

Harry raised his orange and pink arms from his sides in defense. "It wasn't us! He was attacking Quirrel!" He looked to his fellow Slytherins for support, but didn't get a response. 

Snape watched them and turned back to Harry. "None of your other classmates seem to have been affected, so how could it have happened in Defense?"

Harry gaped. "It's true! Just ask them!" 

"Just like your father, Potter. Stupid and arrogant. I would deduct house points, but it would pain me." He scowled in disgust. 

Draco looked Snape in the eye. "Which of his fathers do you mean, sir?" He challenged. "Because I know two of them, and only one is stupid or arrogant." He was referring to Padfoot, of course. The argument probably didn't help any, though. 

"What are you talking about, Mr. Malfoy? Please sit down!" Snape snarled.

Then, Blaise, whose head still had a fair amount of glitter on it, rose to their defense. 

"Professor, forget about Harry's dads. Peeves _did_ attack us and the Hufflepuffs in Defense. The rest of us just showered before coming to class," he explained, gesturing at the other Slytherins. "You can't get them in trouble for that."

Then, Neville spoke, too. Very quietly, he said, "I saw some Hufflepuffs on the way here that were covered in paint."

Snape rounded on him. "Ten points from Gryffindor," he snapped. And then, to Harry, he said sourly, "Learn some cleaning spells for next time."

Then, he began the lesson. They were to make a mild digestion potion, which was supposed to be given to babies. Draco had never needed to make it before, so it seemed easy enough. 

Except for the fact that glitter kept on getting into it. He and Harry failed because their potion had turned sparkling. Even Neville, who had somehow managed to make his cauldron explode, got a better grade than they did. 

Suffice to say, the day seemed like a flop to Draco. Even after he and Harry got to clean off, he still was in a foul mood. 

It persisted until after school when they were doing homework in the library. Hermione showed up and slid a magazine onto their table and sat down across from them. 

"Padma got this for me," she explained. "I read it, and it's all good. I guess I know about your dads now, Harry."

Harry snatched it from her and started reading. 

"Who's Padma?" Draco asked. 

"The girl who was next to me at breakfast. Remember?" She replied. 

"Oh," Draco murmured. He turned to Harry. "What's it say?"

"Shhh!" Harry snapped. 

Draco rolled his eyes and turned to Hermione. "What's it say?" he repeated in a whisper. 

"Essentially, Harry has wonderful parents," she whispered back. "And that he traveled a lot."

Harry grimaced. "I know why Parkinson was laughing this morning," he grumbled, staring at the paper.

"Let me see!" Draco cried, leaning onto Harry to look. When he did, he burst out laughing. 

There were several of Harry's goofy toddler pictures included, as well as some _interesting_ shots of Padfoot and Moony.

"Don't laugh!" Harry wailed. 

"Why not?" He demanded. "Look! There's Padfoot in his underwear!" He cackled at it, pointing at the next page. There was another where Moony and Padfoot were trying to hide from the camera under a blanket. 

Hermione sighed. "This is why I don't read gossip magazines," she muttered. "They're for middle-aged women who would actually _want_ to see that."

Harry turned beet red. "Don't say that!" He wailed.

An older student at the next table over glared at them. 

"Oh, shut up," he grumbled. "You don't even understand what that means."

Draco just snickered. Maybe the day wasn't so terrible after all.

* * *

The next several weeks passed, for the most part, uneventfully. They did their homework, went to classes, and got picked on by some of the other Slytherins. The Gryffindors weren't particularly kind to them either, but they were easy to ignore. 

Halloween snuck up on them in a kind of rush. Draco's family had never really celebrated it, but apparently it was important to other wizards. Hermione had more knowledge of it than he did--though he was growing less and less surprised every time she knew something he didn't, even when it had to do with wizards. 

"Muggles celebrate it, too," she told them. "Except it's mostly for costumes and candy."

They were in the library again, trying to study but utterly failing. 

Harry looked disturbed by Hermione's comment. "It's a sacred day!" he exclaimed vehemently. "Moony and Padfoot always told me it was the day we're closest to the dead," he added, speaking quieter then and staring down at the table. 

Draco had never spent a Halloween with Harry before, so he didn't know what that meant to him. "Do you usually visit the Potters' grave?" he inferred.  

Harry looked up again. "No. The dead find you wherever you are." he whispered. 

Draco scoffed. "I think that was Padfoot just telling you stories again," he muttered to Harry. "The dead don't see us."

He felt a chilling tap on his shoulder, and he turned around to see the Bloody Baron directly behind him.

"I would beg to differ," the ghost whispered. 

All three of them screamed, as well as several others in the library. Before Madam Pince, the librarian, could see what the ruckus was about, the Baron had disappeared. 

"No screaming!" she scolded them. "Not even on Halloween! Not in here!"

Hermione's face had gone pale white. Like she has seen a ghost. "What was that?" she demanded, breathing heavily.

"The Bloody Baron," Harry whispered. "Slytherin's Houde ghost." 

"Oh," Hermione gasped. "Does he do that often?"

Draco, still recovering, just shrugged. "I think he likes us," he muttered sarcastically. It was the ghost's second visit, after all.

Harry rolled his eyes, apparently over it already. "Anyway, the point I was making was that the dead are near this time of year. We would talk to my birth parents sometimes," he explained. 

"So, like you do at their grave?" Draco assumed. He remembered Harry's prayer to his parents. He had done it with him then because it seemed to harmless, so happy. But it seemed creepy to do it on Halloween, and not even by their grave...

"Except we did all over the world," Harry corrected him. "We were never home for Halloween, but Lily and James were always with us. We heard their voices a couple times. One time, I saw their reflections in a pool of water." His voice dropped and he looked around the room. It seemed to be for dramatic effect.

Hermione shivered. "That's weird, Harry." She looked around the room, too, as if worried the Baron would jump out at her again.

Draco didn't believe it, though. Harry would have told him about it before. 

"I call bollocks," he muttered. "Only I get to tell the crazy stories, Harry. You're not that great at it."

Harry crossed his arms. "Because it's a true story!" he protested. "That's why it doesn't sound like one of your tall tales."

"Well, I don't believe it," Draco said. "I want you to prove it." He set his jaw firmly. He meant it.

Hermione sighed. "You two are being ridiculous. I'm going back to my common room." 

They didn't say goodbye. Draco was determined to keep on bickering with Harry about this. 

"It's Halloween!" Harry said. "I can prove it."

"Then do it!" Draco challenged him. "Do it right _now_!" 

Harry scowled. "It's _sacred_ , Draco. We have to find the right place to do it," he insisted.

There probably wasn't a right place for it, Draco thought, but he wanted to see how serious Harry was about it. He doubted it was a joke--he wouldn't be joking about his dead parents. But he wondered how he would actually carry it out. 

So, he followed Harry out of the library. He made a big deal out of following his "intuition," which Draco assumed meant he was just choosing random pathways to follow. 

He was worried they were going to get lost after a while. The staircases kept shifting around, and he had lost track of how many turns they had made. 

"When does te Feast start?" he asked after what felt like hours, when his stomach began to grumble. 

"It doesn't matter," Harry snapped. "This is more important. Now, I think we need to turn left here." He sounded so determined, it was ridiculous.

Draco followed him to the left. They had gone up several flights of stairs by now, and were in a very quiet corridor. A chill went down his spine. 

"What are you following?" Draco demanded. "Your creepy radar? It keeps getting weirder and weirder the further in we go." 

"Do you need me to hold your hand?" Harry asked in a haughty tone. "And I'm following my scar. It's tingling." 

He probably hadn't been serious about the hand thing, but Draco grabbed Harry's hand anyway. He was beginning to think about ghosts and the Bloody Baron and Peeves again, and he was jumpy. 

And he hoped he wasn't serious about the scar thing.

"That sounds like a bad idea, following a scar..." Draco whispered. 

"It's what I always do," Harry said. "I think it connects me to them or something."

Draco frowned. He had never heard of anything like that. He didn't even see why it would work like that. He would have to ask Hermione. 

He let out a yelp as something brushed against his shoulder. It was just a spider, though. 

He heaved a sigh of relief. 

But then Harry stopped walkimg. 

He let go of Draco's hand and cradled his scar and groaned. "It just started hurting. Why is it hurting?"

Draco grabbed his hands away to look at it. "That's the second time it's happened..." He moved away Harry's hair. The scar looked fine, he thought. "Maybe your scar _is_ connected to ghosts," he mused. Of course, he didn't believe it.  

Harry brushed him away. "I'm going to try and talk to them now." 

Draco took a step back. "Are you sure?" he inquired. "If it hurts--" He broke off when he heard the sound of footsteps. 

"Someone's coming," Harry hissed. 

Draco looked around. He spotted a big door just down the hall, and they hurried towards it. Harry ran while clutching his scar. 

"Hey! W-what are you t-two d-doing?" a familiar voice cried. 

Both boys turned their heads and froze in front of the door. 

"S-students are n-n-not allowed on t-this floor," Quirrel panted, after running up to them. 

Harry and Draco exchanged worried looks. 

"We got lost," Draco said quickly. 

"The staircases!" Harry exclaimed. 

Draco nodded in agreement. "Yeah. The staircases kept on turning!" 

"And my scar! It was tingling," Harry added. For extra affect, he rubbed it with his hand. 

Quirrel gave them a confused look, flustered by their onslaught of explanations. 

"W-why are y-you g-g-getting lost during the F-Feast?" the Professor demanded, crossing his arms. 

Harry fluttered his eyelashes. "I told you sir, my scar was tingling. I was trying to communicate with my dead parents," he said quietly. He must have been trying to get sympathy. 

"P-parents?" 

Draco decided he would jump on the bandwagon, too. The ghosts thing might be the only way to get themselves out of trouble now.

"Yes, sir, his parents! Didn't you know? They were killed by Voldemort," he whispered. Everyone always felt sorry for that story. How could they not?

Quirrel didn't, though. His face hardened, and he scowled at them.

"Don't say his name!" he shouted, suddenly sounding much breathier and high pitched. 

Harry clutched his scar and fell to his knees. Draco figured he must have been acting, so he grabbed his shoulders and pretended to support him. 

"It's his parents!" Draco proclaimed. "They're here."

The Professor looked somwhere between extremely confused and mildly terrified. 

Harry let out a little gasp. Draco decided to take over--he was much better at spinning tales than Harry, anyway.

"Don't you hear them, Professor?" asked Draco, looking around. Then, he paused and shook his head. "No, of course you don't. They say that only children can hear them."

Quirrel blinked. "C-children?"

Draco paused and put a hand to his ear. "Oh, only good children, they say," he added with a smirk. "Have you been good, Professor?"

"I'm g-good!" the Professor snapped, shifting uneasily.

Harry let out another moan. "Angry," he whispered. 

Draco gasped dramatically. "Oh! What's this? There's more spirits! And they're angry!" he cried, looking around. "Oh, Professor Quirrel, what have you done?"

The Professor looked avidly concerned, now. He was looking about the room as if to spot whatever spirits Draco was "communicating" with. He was secretly curious as to what _Squirrel_ had done to fall for the guilt trip.

Harry made some sort of show of not being able to get to his feet, and Draco helped him up. "Oh, poor Harry," he said to Quirrel. "It must be a shame to be haunted by the dead." 

Quirrel took a step back, and then glared at the boys. The fear left his face and was replaced with anger. "I don't have time for this! You must leave!" He shouted. 

Harry leaned onto Draco and let out a shuddering exhale. 

"Professor, you're angering the spirits! They're hurting Harry!" Draco warned him. He was very impressed with Harry's acting skills--he seemed to be genuinely miserable. Although, Draco was very pleased with his own performance. 

"Shut up!" Quirrel wailed. "Leave!"

Then, there were more footsteps. Draco saw Snape gliding through the hallway.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Quirrel spun around. "I-I was j-just reprimanding these students, S-Severus," he stammered, pointing to Draco and Harry. Now that Snape was here, he seemed squirrely again.

Snape narrowed his eyes, seeming for once torn between yelling at Harry and someone else. 

"And what led you to them?" Snape demanded, choosing to interrogate Quirrel instead. Hary maintained the wailing act. 

Quirrel nervously touched the back of his turban. "I was m-making sure there were n-no students loose around the t-tr-troll," he said quickly. 

"And your first instinct was, of course, a forbidden corridor?" Snape asked dryly. "Where the troll is farthest from?"

"Y-yes!" Quirrel exclaimed. "A-and here t-they w-were." He laughed. 

Snape stepped to the side of Quirrel. 

"And what are you doing here, Potter?" he demanded, glaring down at Harry. 

Draco gave his best concerned expression. "We got lost, sir. The spirits led him here." He patted Harry's head. "That's why he can't talk. The spirits are angry at Quirrel."

Snape raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Spirits, indeed." He huffed, and rounded back on Quirrel. "I still don't believe either of you. But we should all return to our Houses, don't you think?" 

"Y-yes," Quirrel said. "T-take them b-b-back to Slytherin!"

Snape grasped Quirrel's arm. "You must come as well. The Headmaster should like to hear about how you found this troll." He growled. 

Harry and Draco were dragged along as well. After a while, though, Harry murmured something about the hospital wing. 

"Oh, yes!" Draco exclaimed. "Harry's scar is causing him terrible pain, Professor Snape. It happens every Halloween. He needs to get some pain-relieving potion," he explained, winking at Harry. 

Snape looked between Quirrel and Harry, and still somehow chose Quirrel again. 

"Go," he ordered. "But go  _only_ to the hospital wing. I will return to retrieve you both in forty minutes. I will know if you should stray." 

He continued on with Quirrel. Once they were gone, he clapped Harry on the shoulder. 

"That was brilliant, Harry! Your acting got us out of trouble!" he exclaimed gleefully. 

Harry looked up at him and grimaced. "It wasn't acting. My scar was killing me... Let's get to the hospital wing. Please?" 

That concerned Draco. He hurried him off to Madam Pomfrey, who was nearby. When they entered, she looked frazzled and scared. 

"Oh, dears. Are you alright? Was it the troll?" she asked, taking them by the hands and having them sit. 

"No?" Draco said uncertainly. "We don't really know about the troll," he confessed. 

"I just have a splitting headache," Harry moaned. 

"We think it was ghosts!" Draco added. 

Harry gave him a dark look that made Draco really worry. What was it that had been hurting Harry, if it wasn't ghosts and he wasn't pretending? 

Madam Pomfrey began to tend to Harry as she explained the troll. 

"I don't know what you two were up to," she said, "but while you were at it, Professor Quirrel was in the Great Hall announcing there was a troll in the dungeon. Everyone had to go back to their Houses."

Draco looked pointedly at Harry. Why hadn't Snape and Quirrel done so?

That made him uneasy. It also made him uncomfortable with talking with Snape when he came to escort them back to Slytherin. 

"Is the troll gone?" Harry asked him quietly. 

"Are your _spirits_ gone?" Snape spat back. 

"Yes," Harry replied uneasily. "They went away once we were far enough away. And the pain reliever helped."

Draco couldn't help but think his answer lacked _story_.

"That corridor is haunted, isn't it, Professor Snape?" he asked in a low voice. "We could only here the voices in their. And Harry's scar had called him there."

Snape huffed. "Yes, that. Which is why you weren't at the Feast, I assume. You're lucky not to have been eaten by the troll," he muttered, definitely with sarcasm.

His words, however, surprisingly lacked venom. 

"We didn't know," Harry replied. "And Madam Pomfrey said it was in the dungeon."

"But the spirits probably knew!" Draco cut in. "Which is why they led us upstairs!"

Snape stopped walking. "Draco Malfoy, you are being less bearable than Potter," he said in a low whisper. "I do not care what you two were doing in that corridor--just do not mention _spirits_ again. You and I _both_ know it was an act." 

Draco shut up, then. He did not want Snape's wrath directed at him. 

"So, are we in trouble, sir?" Harry asked once they began walking again. 

Professor Snape sighed. "No, Potter," he muttered. "While you were in a restricted area, you were not out after curfew, and you did not do anything wrong, besides lie to and terrify Professor Quirrel." 

Draco laughed, but stopped himself in case that got him in trouble. "We scared Quirrel?" He asked, unable to suppress a giggle-snort.

"Yes," Snape replied, unamused. "He told me all about it. He is very superstitious, so he believed you." 

Harry didn't look so pleased about that, though. "But we're not in trouble? We broke the rules!"

Draco bet he was most likely remembering Snape telling him that he would recieve no sympathy or special treatment. This was feeling like Snape was giving both to him. Weird.

"Quiet, Potter, before I regret my mercy," Snape growled.

They didn't speak for the rest of the walk back, unless one counted the growling of Draco's stomach. Snape ignored that, sadly. 

Still, Draco couldn't understand Snape's mild manner towards them that night. He laid awake wondering about it. 

The only conclusion that he came to was that Quirrel was _not_ supposed to be in that hallway, either, and that he and Harry had somehow helped by obstructing him. So, Snape must have been grateful.

It did little to comfort him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost had Luna appear here to give them the Quibbler, but then I remembered she's a year younger than them. No Luna yet! :(


	10. Chapter 10

Draco tried his best to forget about Halloween night. It had been scary, and they still didn't know why Harry's scar had been hurting so much. 

He busied himself with classes and homework and studying with his friends. Most nights, he and Harry would try to explore the castle, but it was hard to do without getting caught. They hadn't yet, but it was always close. 

Some afternoons, instead of studying with Hermione and him, Harry wanted to go exploring with Neville. Draco thought it an inexplicably odd desire, but he never argued with him about it. It gave him more time to sit by the common room window and stare out into the lake. He would usually wait to see if anything interesting would show up, and if it did, he would draw it. Blaise usually joined him. 

Weekends were good because he got to sleep in, which was a luxury he had never appreciated before. Breakfast was eaten late, and he, Harry, and Blaise would usually sit around in their dorm and play board games. 

And then, one glorious Sunday morning in November, Draco could not sleep in. Not in a bad way, of course--he wanted to be up. 

It was the first Quidditch match of the year: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Harry and Draco wanted to get up early to find good seats for the game. Draco had woken up first, to a curious squelching noise. 

He didn't investigate it at first; he thought it was far too early to consider getting up. It was pitch black. But the squelching continued, and Draco was both disturbed and intrigued. 

He sat up and cast a _lumos_ charm. There was nothing in the room to explain the noise upon his inspection.

He turned to look out the windows, and was terribly confused by what he saw. 

Instead of the usual greenish scape of water and plants and fish, each of the portholes was covered by variations of pinkish orange _something_ from the outside. It was moving, which was probably the squelching noise. 

Then, he realized what it was. 

The Giant Squid had decided to grace him and his dormmates with its presence. 

Eagerly, he shook Harry awake. He grumbled in protest. "The game isn't this early," he moaned. 

"Get your glasses on," Draco whispered. "You'll want to see this." 

Harry sat up. "There's nothing _to_ see, Draco," he snapped. "It's pitch black."

"Just do it," Draco pleaded. 

Harry grudgingly obliged, and Draco pointed his wand at the portholes. 

They both stared for a moment, basking in its glory. 

"Whoa," Harry whispered, fixated. "What is it?"

Draco shoved him for being stupid, ignoring the fact he himself hadn't recognized it immediately either. 

"It's the Squid, silly," he replied, pointing his wand closer to the glass. 

Harry gaped. "It is!" he cried. "This has to be a good sign!" 

He was too loud.

Blaise woke up. "What's good?" he grumbled, trying to sit up.

"We have been blessed by the Giant Squid of the Black Lake!" Draco proclaimed excitedly.

Theo, whom Draco had not known was awake, began making noises.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

Theo raised his voice. "I said I live with a bunch of idiots!" he shouted.

Blaise didn't defend them; he had already fallen back to sleep.

Draco and Harry decided to get dressed and sneak into the common room to see if they could see the Squid from there. When they got there, they saw it was not as early as they thought, and that the Squid's tentacles just barely reached the common room window.

Once the Squid had squirmed out of sight, they decided to go to breakfast and then go see the game. 

The Great Hall was virtually empty, or at least the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables were. Slytherin and Gryffindor were apparently more excited about the game. Seeing the Gryffindors made Draco and Harry want to hurry up, so they both had a few slices of toast with jam and then ran for the Quidditch Pitch. 

The game had a half hour to start, and the stands were beginning to fill up. Draco and Harry were lucky enough to squeeze into the top bench in the Slytherin stand, with some grumbling from the sixth years they were next to. 

Once they were settled, Draco noticed Harry staring across at the Gryffindors. Worried, he asked, "Do you wish you were over there?"

Harry absently stared a moment longer, then shook his head. "Not really," he confessed. "Padfoot might have been happier, but from what I've seen, I don't know if I would have fit in."

"And you would have missed me," he added, elbowing Harry in the ribs. 

"Clearly," he replied, rubbing his side like it was sore. "Besides, look at Neville over there. No one's with him." He pointed across the stand.

Draco noticed Neville sitting in a corner of the Gryffindor stands all of his own. "Obviously, us Slytherins are much more welcoming," he grumbled. "You're not going to go over there, are you?"

Harry looked between Neville and the older Slytherins. 

"Not on a game day," he muttered. "Marcus Flint might kill me."

That was funny. And completely true. 

They chattered for the time remaining until the game. The stands slowly filled up, and the autumn sky began to brighten. The air stayed cold, but smelled strangley sweet. 

By the time the teams were on the pitch, the Gryffindor and Slytherin stands were packed. Everyone sported their House colors, whether that was in hats, scarves, mittens or flags. Harry had both Slytherin hat and scarf on, whereas Draco had grudgingly hidden the Gryffindor scarf Padfoot had given him in his robes. He had yet to find anyone who was willing to charm it to look green and silver instead of red and gold. 

Draco didn't personally know any of the Slytherin team, besides the captain, Marcus Flint. He recognized the Weasley twins on the Gryffindor team as the beaters. 

"The Gryffindor seeker looks confused," Harry whispered, pointing up. 

Draco laughed, realizing he hadn't moved since the start of the game. "Is he stuck there or something?" He asked, peering up into the sky.

"No idea," Harry replied, watching intently, "but Slytherin isn't doing too much better."

The Slytherin seeker was going around and around in circles. He looked as if he were unwilling to put in any more effort than Gryffindor. 

The Beaters and Chasers were doing a much better job as far as enthusiasm went. They were all zipping back and forth--Slytherin had already scored twenty points, Gryffindor ten. 

About a half hour in, Harry nudged Draco. "I see the Snitch," he whispered. 

"What?" Draco demanded in disbelief, looking frantically about the pitch. "Where? I can't see it."

Harry pointed to a spot directly in the middle of the field. "There."

Draco squinted, but could just barely make it out. "Merlin, Harry. Did someone charm your glasses or something? I can barely see it with my _healthy_ eyes!" he exclaimed. 

Harry elbowed him. "Shut it. I'm just better at it than you, I guess."

Draco rolled his eyes. Harry was never funny when he was gloating. 

"Then why don't you become Seeker?" he huffed. "Oh, that's right--you can't, because we're first years."

Harry crossed his arms and stuck his tongue out. 

Then, they spotted someone with a blue hat and bushy hair making their way up the stand. 

"It's Hermione," Harry said, looking away from the game. 

"I can see that!" Draco snapped. "My eyes aren't any worse than yours!"

Their Ravenclaw friend dodged through several hostile Slytherins, up to their spot at the top row. She didn't sit down. 

"What are you doing?" she demanded, crossing her arms. 

"Watching the game," Draco replied sourly. "What did you want?"

She rolled her eyes and exhaled. "I heard something in the library," she whispered, leaning in closer to them, "and I think you two should know." 

"What is it, then?" Harry asked, still fixated on the Seekers. 

"Not here!" She hissed, looking nervously at the other Slytherins. "Come with me," she ordered. 

"But--"

Hermione grabbed Harry by the scarf. "Let's go!"

"Fine," they both muttered, following her down the steps, apologizing along the way. 

Draco stepped on Parkinson's robe on the way down.

"Watch it!" she screeched. 

"Sorry," he chriped innocently over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes. She glared at him like the devil. 

They followed Hermione up to the castle, away from the cheering noise of the Pitch. When they were far enough away and totally alone, she began to talk. 

"I heard Snape talking with Dumbledore," she told them at last. 

"In the library?" Draco asked, incredulously. "I've never seen them there." He quickened his pace to catch up with her.

"Neither have I," she agreed. "But they were there. I heard them whispering about Halloween, so--"

Harry cut her off, running to catch up. "Halloween?" He asked nervously, looking at Draco.

Draco knew why he was worried; Hermione probably did, too. 

"Yes. Don't interrupt," she scolded, turning her head to glare at him. "Anyway. So, I followed him--"

" _You_ followed a teacher?" Draco interrupted. 

"Draco, don't _interrupt_ ," Harry mimicked in a high pitched voice, waving his arms in the air.

"You two are unbearable!" Hermione huffed. "Do you want to know or not?" she demanded, stopping in front of them.

"Yes!" they both cried. 

"Good," she said as they arrived at the castle doors. They opened, and the three of them slid in. She lowered her voice as she continued. "They were talking about Quirrel on Halloween night; Snape was saying Dumbledore shouldn't trust him."

Harry scoffed. "Or maybe we shouldn't trust _Snape_."

Draco rolled his eyes. They had discussed this; Harry, despite how nice Snape had been to them, seemed to think he was the bad guy. Draco thought Quirrel was up to something instead. 

"Maybe," Hermione muttered hesitantly. "Anyhow, they kept on referring to someone named Nicolas Flamel. Dumbledore kept on insisting they had to protect his legacy, and Snape kept insisting they keep a closer eye on Quirrel."

Draco frowned. "So, you think Nicolas Flamel, and Quirrel, and Halloween are all connected?" he asked her. 

"Yes," She nodded. "So, I was looking through the library to find out who he was, and--" 

Draco interjected once again. "He was an Alchemist; he invented the Elixir of Life." He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Both Harry and Hermione froze and stared at him. They were now in an empty corridor near the Great Hall.

"What?" he demanded. "Everyone knows that." 

Hermione blinked. "Everyone does _not_ know that," she murmured indignantly. 

Draco sighed, sorry to have hurt her feelings. She hated not knowing something.

 _Ravenclaws_. 

"Fine. My mum read to me about him a few years ago," he told her. "But anyway. What was your idea?" 

"I don't know," she replied, chewing her lip and looking thoughtful. "But it has to do with Flamel's legacy, doesn't it?"

"You don't think someone's trying to get the Elixir, do you?" Harry whispered, moving closer to them.

"Unlikely," Draco replied, leaning himself against the wall. "It's a finite thing, and it would be pointless to keep it here. It's more likely to be the Stone."

"How do you know all this?" Hermione huffed. 

Draco ignored her. Slytherins were allowed to know things, too, after all.

"Why are we worrying about this?" He asked impatiently. "The game could have ended by now." 

Harry's face took on a concerned expression. "Because it's interesting. If you're right about this Stone... Why is it here? And who's after it?" He asked, turning to look down the hall and check to make sure no one was coming.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted.

 _Shocking_.

Draco just stared at them both. "This is stupid," he told them, looking between the two of them warily. "It'll just get us into trouble if we try to find out."

"Don't be such a stick in the mud!" Harry protested. 

"It _is_ rather interesting," Hermione added.

"You're both crazy," he muttered. "What are you planning on doing, anyway? We don't know anything!"

"Snape and Dumbledore mentioned Halloween night," Hermione explained, "so it either has to do with the troll, or the hall Quirrel found you is. Which one?" 

"The hall," Harry decided. 

"Well, brilliant," Draco laughed wryly. "How do you plan on getting there? It's restricted, and we were lost when we found it." 

Harry grinned at him. "I'll follow my scar!" he proclaimed. 

Draco buried his face in his hands. "You said that only worked on Halloween! To find dead people!" He cried in frustration. How _stupid_ could Harry be? Of course that wouldn't work again...

"You believed that?" Harry smirked. "Even after you played it out in front of the professors?"

"Yes!" Draco growled. "You had a real headache! I believed you!" They had taken Harry to the hospital wing, after all.

"I really did feel it," Harry assured him, "except it's never happened on Halloween before. And we don't talk to dead people." 

Draco groaned. "You tricked me!" He had actually believed Harry! He had been lying!

Hermione was sniggering at him. 

"It was just to get you to explore with me, you great scaredy-cat," Harry told him. "But I think that, whatever it is, I'll be able to find it again if I follow my scar."

Draco marched up to Harry and looked him in the eye--which was hard, because Harry was over an inch taller. 

"I am _not_ a scaredy-cat," he snapped, looking as menacing as he could. "So let's go find that stupid hall." 

Hermione pushed them apart gently. "Not right now, Draco," she grinned cleverly. "You have to do it at night if you're not afraid."

"I-I"--he glared at her--"I'll go at night if you do, Granger."

She swallowed, looking all of a sudden like she was all bark and no bite.

"Okay," she agreed firmly, looking absolutely terrified.

Harry clapped them both on the shoulder. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "Let's meet here tonight, then."

Draco hated how brave Harry had to be. 

* * *

 

"Where's Hermione?" Draco hissed. They were back by the Great Hall, where they had agreed to meet. It was nearly midnight, and Hermione was ten minutes late. 

"If she's not here in five minutes, we'll leave," Harry promised him. 

"Good," Draco replied, shifting apprehensively, "because I don't want us to get caught here without actually having accomplished anything." He looked at the staircase for the dozenth time for Hermione, or someone less friendly. 

"We'll be fine," Harry replied hastily, though he didn't seem to believe it himself. 

"What does your scar say?" Draco whispered bitterly, accidentally-on-purpose elbowing him in the side. 

Harry winced and stepped away from him, shooting him a glare. 

"Nothing, yet," he grumbled. He looked to eithee side of him. Draco did, too. 

Still no Hermione.

"Let's go," Harry insisted. "Before someone finds us." He took Draco's hand and began tugging him away. 

He didn't protest. The more time they spent waiting in one location, the more likely they were to get caught. 

"Is your scar tingling yet?" Draco asked after a few minutes, once they were in an unfamiliar area. 

"No," Harry whispered. "I can't feel anything. Let's just turn here..." he mumbled, and they went left, past a painting of a snoring lion. 

"You better know where you're going, scar face," Draco said warningly, "because I don't want a teacher to lead us back this time."

Harry tugged on him. "Just keep track of the paintings, and we'll follow those." 

Draco groaned. That wasn't very helpful--the people paintings could move from frame to frame. 

But he still kept track, just to give himself some peace of mind. They passed a little girl in a blue dress on a swing against a summery back drop, and then went up the staircase by the painting of the knight. The staircase swiveled, and then they were in front of a portrait of three spotted dogs chasing after a fox. They quickly ran out of the frame, however. 

They followed in the direction that the dogs went.

"Are you feeling anything yet?" Draco asked impatiently. "Are we at all near where we were on Halloween?"

Harry stopped walking and put a hand on his forehead. 

"I don't know," he grumbled, spinning around in the circle.

"So, maybe the scar was a fluke," Draco suggested, placing a hand on Harry's arm, "and this entire thing was a mistake."

Harry looked up. "No! I swear it's not! I can--" He broke off abruptly and stared at something down the hall. 

Cautiously, fear-filled, Draco turned to see what he was looking at. 

It was an ugly tabby cat, glaring at them with glowing, golden eyes. It hissed at them, spraying spittle, and ran away. 

"What was that?" Draco whispered. "Should we run?"

Harry swallowed, clutched Draco's hand, and turned around. They began to walk as quickly and silently as they could. 

"That was Ms. Norris," he said as quietly as he could for his heavy breathing. "Moony and Padfoot told me about her."

"What's she going to do?" Draco asked nervously, wondering if she was another castle ghost. 

"She's going to get Filch," Harry replied. "Which means we're screwed."

Sure enough, Filch appeared within a minute, looking disturbingly delighted to catch them. He grabbed them by their robe collars and dragged them back to the Slytherin dorms, promising a very nasty detention for "delinquent little first years."

The next morning, they reconvened with Hermione in herbology.

"Where were you?" Harry asked her as they dug holes to sow seeds. "We got detention last night."

"I did, too!" she snapped angrily. "I had hardly left the common room when I got caught." She stabbed her spade into the ground bitterly.

Draco dropped his spade. "You got detention?" he asked, laughing darkly. "Well, that makes things better for us, doesn't it?"

Harry kicked him discreetly. "No, it doesn't." he muttered.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, giving him a half smile. She was much nicer to the next hole she dug.

"Did Filch get you, too?" Draco asked, trying to be more sympathetic this time. 

"No." she replied grumpily. "Professor Flitwick caught me leaving the tower." 

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry sighed. 

At the same time, Draco said sarcastically, "Great work, Hermione."

She dropped her spade and crossed her arms. "I'll see you both at detention, I suppose."

Draco was not looking forward to that.


	11. Chapter 11

"What'd yeh do ter get detention?" Hagrid asked them as they walked down to the Forbidden Forest. 

"We were exploring," Harry answered glumly, trailing alone behind. 

"Filch's cat caught us," mumbled Draco. 

"Not me," Hermione added. "I hardly was out for five minutes." She had been cross ever since she got the detention, and Draco was growing tired of it. 

"Well," Hagrid answered, "it's good ter see yeh, Harry. You too, Draco." He clomped along ahead of them, and looked back over his shoulder. "And what's yer name, missy?" He asked her. 

"Hermione," she replied. "I'm with these idiots."

"Hey!" Harry cried, giving her a sharp look.

Draco snickered, even if she was calling him an idiot, too.

Hagrid cleared his throat--a deep, rumbling sound. 

"I won't make it to hard on yeh," he promised them. "Just collectin' some special plants." 

"At night?" Hermione grumbled. "This seems like a terribly dangerous idea."

"Nonsens'!" Hagrid exclaimed. "It's perfectly safe. Yeh've got me and Fang to protect yer," he reminded them with a booming laugh. 

"Fang?" Draco asked nervously. 

"Have yeh met Fang, Harry?" Hagrid asked. "Speakin' o' which, gotta pick him up at the cabin. Yeh'll meet him soon." He kept on going, swinging his lantern back and forth. He began humming a jovial tune. 

Harry, Hermione, and Draco all clumped together, keeping up with Hagrid and his lamp. 

"I don't like this," Hermione whispered.

"Neither do I," Draco agreed, nervously watching Hagrid ahead of them. "What kind of beasts assign the Forbidden Forest as detention?" He shuddered at the stories he'd heard... Monsters lived in that forest.

"I trust Hagrid," Harry argued. "We'll be fine." He then buried his hands in his armpits, as if to fight the chill. 

"I'm still telling Father about this," Draco muttered. "It's insanity."

They were at the cabin, Draco realized, as Hagrid stopped walking and his lamp illuminated the building. All of a sudden, the cabin erupted in sound as loud barking came from within. Draco jumped and immediately clung to Harry.

"That'll be Fang," Hagrid shouted over the noise. "I best be gettin' him out." 

They watched carefully as Hagrid went to the cabin. Draco braced himself, waiting for some gigantic beast to pound out of the cabin and attack them. 

The door swung open, and the barking ceased. A large, black dog bounded out of the door. It reminded him a little of Padfoot, which allayed his fears a little. 

Hagrid came back to him, the dog Fang at his heels. 

"This is Fang," he told them, swining the lantern so they could see the dog bettee. 

"Hullo, Fang," Harry said fearlessly, reaching out to let the dog sniff his hand. Then, he began to pet its head. 

"He'll protect yeh in ter Forest," Hagrid promised them. He pulled a small bag out of one of his pockets, and presented it to them. It contained several small plants. 

"These'r what yeh'll be lookin' for," he told them. 

Draco stared at them curiously. A glowing mushroom, a feathery looking moss, and a pointy, purple root. Father would know what they all were, if they were potions ingredients.

"Now, we better be splittin' up," Hagrid told them, taking the bag away. 

"Splitting up?" Draco cried, clutching Harry's arm so hard it must have hurt. "Isn't that unsafe?"

"Course not," Hagrid said, handing Harry another lamp. "Now, who wants ter go with me, an' who wants ter go with Fang?" He asked them. 

Hermione reaponded before they could. 

"I'll go with you, Hagrid," she volunteered, stepping forth to join him. "I don't trust these two not to take me anywhere dangerous."

"That's completely unfair!" Draco cried. "We didn't take you anywhere!" 

"It's fair," Hagrid told him, "'cos she asked. Yeh two will take Fang with yeh." He hoisted his lantern into the air and said, "Let's go!"

Hermione and Hagrid forked off in one direction, and Draco and Harry followed Fang in the other. 

"Can't we just wait here and say we went in?" Draco whimpered when they reached the edge of the forest. It was dark and shadowy, with brambles rising out of the ground like spindly, clawed arms. 

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "We have to collect the plants. I don't want Hagrid to be upset with me," he murmured.

Draco shuddered in agreement as he imagined an angry Hagrid. "You're right. Father always says not to provoke people that are bigger than you..."

"That's not what I meant," Harry growled. "Now, let's go. Fang is already leaving us behind."

They scurried after the dog, their one source of protection, into the depths of the Forest. 

It was dark and cold, and Draco feared speaking, lest he attract the attention of the things he thought heard rustling about in the blackness. He pressed close to Harry, and whenever he was afraid, he would take hold of his arm.

Harry acted as if he wasn't afraid. He held steady, and never jumped at the crack of the stick or the jerk of Fang's head. He kept his eyes peeled for the plants, and found them much easier than Draco did. 

Harry had already picked up seven roots and found an entire tree covered in the moss. He filled two small sacks full, but Draco didn't want to touch it. He stood next to Fang and stood watch, which probably just scared him more. 

"Harry, look!" He cried while Harry was still picking moss. "I see something glowing over there. I bet it's a patch of the mushrooms." He hoped it was; he was desperate to be useful.  

Harry spun around. "Let's see, then. I think we have enough of the moss," he decided. He began looking through the trees. "Where did you see it?"

"Over there," Draco answered, though he couldn't spot it anymore. "Did it move?" he wondered. How strange if it did... Did mushrooms move?

"I see it!" Harry announced quietly. "I think it is moving. Let's go!" He darted after it. 

Spurred by a jolt of fear, Draco rushed to catch up with him. "Potter!" he wailed. "Harry, don't leave me!" He didn't want to die in the forest...

Harry slowed down, and allowed Draco to catch up and grab onto his arm again. He panted heavily and clung close to him. 

"Sorry," Harry whispered. "I got excited."

"Don't _do_ that!" he hissed. "We are _Slytherins_ ," he said slowly, "and that does _not_ mean we run into dangerous situations."

Harry began slowly prodding forward. "We're fine," he assured him. "Look, it's just a glowing patch of--" he broke off when they realized that what they were seeing was definitely not mushrooms. 

"Whoa," they both whispered. 

Standing in a clearing in front of them was a tall, silvery-glowing unicorn. It illuminated the clearing, and all at once, Draco's fears were diminished. 

"See?" Harry insisted. "Not a dangerous situation."

Neither of them decided to press forward or approach the unicorn. They stood there for a moment, happy to watch. 

Then, all at once, something Dark dashed into the clearing, and knocked the unicorn down. Terrified, both Draco and Harry ducked and fell into the brambles. Breathing heavily, and scratching against the spiny ground, they watched what unfolded. 

The Dark thing stood above the unicorn, which laid on its side, crying out despairingly. It was a sound so beautiful and devastating that Draco felt himself beginning to cry. Next to him, Harry choked back a muffled sob. 

The thing, which was seeming more and more like a cloaked human, pulled out a knife and slashed its throat. It did not die, however, and continued to wail into the night. 

Draco began cry, but Harry clamped his hand over his mouth. He was happy to notice, however, that Harry was crying as well. 

The figure lowered its head to the unicorn's neck and began to drink. Draco felt repulsion like nothing he had ever felt began to bubble within him as he watched. What cruel monster could do such a thing to a beautiful creature like the unicorn? Was it a vampire. 

They watched for several minutes as the unicorn kicked and struggled, but finally went still. The figure began to fill vials with luminescent silver blood.

When it stood up, all Draco could see was the glowing blood dripping from its face. A shudder traveled down his spine as it fixated on the spot where he and Harry hid, and then darted away into the night. 

"Did it see us?" Draco whispered anxiously when Harry finally unclamped his mouth. 

Harry sat up slowly. "No," he replied cautiously, "but I think something else is coming."

They ducked down into the grass as three centaurs galloped into the clearing. They stared down at the murdered unicorn, and began whispering amongst each other. 

The light-colored one slowly turned around and stared directly at them. 

"Come out of the shadows," it ordered. 

Draco stayed down, grabbing Harry to make sure he didn't get up and do something stupid like approach them. His mother had told him all about centaurs, and he didn't trust them. 

"Come out, murderer, or we will shoot." Another other centaur, whose fur was white, ordered. 

Several crossbows rose and aimed at the spot where they hid. Draco almost screamed, but he bit his tongue. 

Harry got up, and Draco couldn't stop him. He supposed Harry thought it was better to die facing them than lying in hiding. He didn't want to leave him, though, so he got up, too. 

"We didn't do it!" Harry cried, putting his hands in the air. His face was puffy from the tears shed watching the unicorn die.

Draco stood next to him, no longer hanging onto him. He tried to be brave and stand his own against the centaurs.

"No," the first centaur conceded, lowering his crossbow. "You were not who we expected, though it was written in the stars that you might come this night." He took a few steps closer to them.

The white-coated centaur stepped forward as well. "Clearly they witnessed it, though, and they did nothing about it. That in itself is a crime," he said, not lowering his own crossbow. 

The third, a dark red color, stepped forth, his weapon already slung back behind his back. "They are naught but foals," he reminded the other one. "They cannot be blamed."

Draco nodded earnestly. "What he said!" he exclaimed. "We can't stop a vampire!"

The first centaur fixed his gaze on him. "This was no vampire," he said gravely, "because vampires need no knives." 

"Then what was it?" Harry demanded, quivering as he stared up at the centaur. He was faring better than Draco, however, who felt to be on the verge of collapse. 

"A human," the darker one responded, stepping forward. "The blood of a unicorn will prolong your life, if not at a cost."

The first one cleared his throat. "But that is not something to trouble these little foals with," he said, almost smiling at them. "You are Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy." It was more of a statement than a question. 

"How did you know that?" Draco demanded, doing his best to stare up at the tall creature. 

"We centaurs know many things," the white-coated one responded. He had finally withdrawn his weapon. 

"I am Firenze," the first centaur said, bowing his blonde head to them.

"I am Hezare," the darker one added.

"And I am Yasulf," the white one told them grudgingly.

"What do you want from us?" Harry asked them, seeming fairly more comfortable now. 

"Nothing," Firenze replied, "besides your safe passage back to Hogwarts."

Draco heaved a sigh of relief. "I can agree to that," he said gratefully. 

"Come, then," Firenze called, "but do not expect a ride on my back." He turned left and then began to exit the clearing. The other two followed, and so did Harry and Draco.

When they entered the deep Forest again, Draco noticed that there were at least a dozen more centaurs. They were silent save for the steady fall of their hooves, which sounded to only hit the earth but not shatter any bramble beneath. 

They soon made it to the edge of the Forest, where on the outside, a distraught Hagrid was waiting with Fang. Hermione was there, too, curled up on the ground and crying. 

Fang announced their arrival with a loud bark. 

"Harry!" Hagrid cried. "An' Draco! Yeh made it out alrigh'!" He ran over to swoop them both into the air in a hug. "We've been waitin' here near half an hour."

"The centaurs got us back," Harry whispered, once he had realeased them and they were on the ground once more. 

It wasn't until then that Hagrid noticed the centaurs, lined up in the shadows of the Forest, watching. 

"We will speak later, Hagrid," Firenze said warningly. 

"For now, keep your foals out of our Forest," Hezare recommended. 

"O' course," Hagrid stuttered. He turned to the children, and said, "Let's get yeh back to the castle."

However, not before Hermione had the opportunity to hug them both. 

"You two stupid idiots!" she exclaimed, glaring at them now. "I thought you had _died_!" 

Draco swallowed and half-smiled at her. 

"So did I," he confessed. 


	12. Chapter 12

Lucius was pleased when he recieved another letter home from Draco. He was beginning to miss the boy more and more, and every chance to hear from him warmed his and Narcissa's hearts. 

Except, of course, in the latest letter. 

Draco reported to have earned detention for himself whilst sneaking around the castle, on account of Harry, he claimed. They had been forced to have detention in the Forbidden Forest, where they witnessed some kind of monster and then were cornered by centaurs. 

It enraged Lucius--not so much at Draco, but at the school. How could they have chosen to send him into the Forest? It was complete madness! It was dangerous and an unfit punishment. 

He had gotten the letter at work, on an unfortunate day which he had to spend with Arthur Weasley. They had gotten into a terrible argument, resulting in both of them having to work together even longer until they "worked it out."

He came home simmering and ready to decapitate something. Narcissa noticed his distress at once. 

"Sun room," she ordered. "Right now." She took his arm and dragged him towards the brightly-lit room, immediately making him sit on a warm, cushioned chair. She settled gracefully in the seat next to him, waiting paitently for him to begin speaking. 

"Darling, this really isn't what I--"

She cut him off as she firmly took his hand. "Don't try and solve this with violence," she commanded. 

He sighed, and allowed his muscles to loosen as he sunk deeper into the cushions of the chair. She was right, of course. Since signing that goddamned contract, any violence at all would have Dumbledore's wrath crashing down upon them. 

Still, he had a crushing desire to hex a peacock into smithereens. 

He took a deep breath to compose himself, and began to speak. "Draco sent me a letter today," he told her, closing his eyes and flexing his fists. 

"And?" she inquired, gently taking his hand and trailing her fingers soothingly along his lower palm and wrist.

"Well," he said, exhaling deeply as he forced down another surge of rage, "he got detention. In the Forbidden Forest." 

He still couldn't believe it. _How_ could they have thought it decent to send his son into the Forbidden Forest with that cretin Hagrid? It was blasphemy. 

"Oh, darling," Narcissa murmured, resuming to soothingly pet his hand. He felt her magic tricke into his skin, casting a wandless charm that forced out his rage. 

"He was cornered by centaurs after that fool Hagrid left him and Harry alone to gather plants," he continued, feeling immensely better when she pulled her hands away. When he opened his eyes, he saw her holding a small cloud of electric energy, which she allowed to dissipate into the air.

"Dumbledore taught me," she answered absently. "Go on, though. You still need to vent."

He gave her a smile and took her hand back. He was grateful for the more common, precious moments with her now that their son was off at Hogwarts. 

_Oh, right. Hogwarts._

"They also saw something peculiar in the Forest," he went on. Now that he was no longer bubbling with rage, he was able to think coherently and analyze the other details of the story. 

He decided he needed to learn that spell she used on him. It would be most useful at work. 

Returning to his train of thought, which she had graciously allowed for him to follow at his time and will, he went on. 

"Draco claims to have seen a humanoid, cloaked figure kill and then harvest the blood of a unicorn," he told her. He paused to think of the connotations of that. 

"That must have been terribly distressing for him," Narcissa mumbled, her forehead creasing and her lips turning to frown. "Poor Draco..."

"Indeed," Lucius agreed. "But who would be needing unicorn blood?" he wondered aloud.

"It's an interesting thought," she said quietly. "But not something we should dwell on. Come now, Lucius--close your eyes again. We must do our breathing exercisss now."

He huffed a little at her eccentricity, but gave in and began to breathe deeply along with her. In and out, in and out, it was soothing. 

He did his best to push the incident from his mind. 

* * *

Remus and Sirius were visiting again. They had all sat down on cushions in the sun room for a friendly game with explosive cards, and Lucius was winning, tied with Remus, who was trickier than exoected. 

Out of the blue, Sirius asked, "So, did either of you hear from your son recently?"

It was Lucius' turn, and he looked up to glare at Sirius. He put down the wrong card because of the distraction. The cards exploded in his face. He had to draw three new ones, none of which matched.

"Yes," he snapped, angered now. "I have. Did you hear about how _your_ son's antics got them detention?"

Remus fumbled and put down a bad pair also. "It wasn't just his fault," he insisted. He had to draw another two cards. 

"Oh, will you look at that," Sirius purred, throwing down his own six matching cards. "Looks like both of your fuck-up's won me the game." He smirked as he went to end the game. 

"Not so fast, you cheat," Narcissa interjected, placing down her own card. "It looks like _I_ am the true winner here." She also set down six matching cards--the sixth card she set down was her last in her hand--and it was a joker, which required Sirius to take another card.

They all stared at her, dumbfounded. She had won the game, despite seeming pefectly harmless throughout the game. 

"You've got me, Cousin," Sirius grumbled, pulling a card from the deck.

"Never go against a Black," Remus declared, staring glumly at his remaining four cards. 

"You knew that already," Narcissa chimed. "But we were talking about our sons."

Sirius huffed. "Right," he conceded, "I was the one who brought it up. Even if it was only in the interest of distracting you two," he said to Remus and Lucius. 

"You didn't tell me you heard from Harry," Remus pouted, giving Sirius a dejected look. 

"Sorry, love," Sirius replied, leaning over his floor place to peck him on the cheek. "It was only this morning."

Remus sourly shoved him off. "Well? What did he say?"

"Yes," Narcissa cut in, "what _was_ Harry's side of the story?" 

Sirius, clearly happy to have everyone's attention, set to talking. 

"Apparently, there's something suspicious in a fourth-floor corridor, and Harry's been keen to investigate it," Sirius chuckled. "But Draco's been fairly adverse to Harry's adventurous tendencies, and so they've been having issues working together."

"So, they got detention?" Remus asked. 

"Yes," Lucius growled, "though it appears Harry's tale differs from Draco's."

"Really?" Sirius asked, scooting closer to Remus and slinging an arm around his shoulders. 

Lucius, catching on to the team-making body language, took Narcissa's hand. 

"Your son carelessly has been pulling Draco into danger. Did he tell you about their debacle in the Forbidden Forest?" Lucius demanded, as Narcissa pulled closer to him.

"Pssh," Sirius scoffed, "that was the school's fault."

Remus' eyebrows shot up. "How so?"

"Their detention was in the Forbidden Forest," Lucius explained, "and _your_ son dragged Draco towards a scene where some vampiric monster was drinking the blood of a unicorn." 

"No!" Sirius cried in defense. "He just thought they were going to a patch of glowing mushrooms, and then they found the lone unicorn. It wasn't until after that when the monster came."

Remus grimaced. "You lost me on blood sucking monster. What happened with that?" he demanded, allowing Sirius to keep his arm around him.

"The centaurs intervened," Lucius answered, "before they threatened the boys with death by crossbow."

"And where were the teachers during all this, if it was a detention?" Remus asked.

"Hagrid was understandably busy," Sirius answered.

Remus shook his head and laughed wryly. "Already, they're having adventures," he chuckled, grinning fondly at Sirius. 

"It's no laughing matter," Lucius scowled, wondering how those two could possibly percieve this event to be a good thing.

Narcissa, sensing his stiffness, spoke up. "How have the events with the paper gone?" she asked them.

"Not terribly," Remus admitted. "We've been left alone for the most part, as the mail gets redirected to the magazine publishers instead of us." 

"But Harry's been taking it well?" Narcissa inquired politely.

"Of course," Remus said dryly. "He's bloody joyous about it. He never liked keeping us a secret." He shook his head in something likr disbelief.

"Which is a clearly un-Slytherin quality," Sirius grumbled. 

"Ah, yes," Lucius laughed. "How are you handling that?" he asked them.

"Harry finally wrote us about it a week or so back," Remus replied. "He seems perfectly happy with it, though he kept on inisisting he didn't want to disappoint us." 

"Might that account for the unnecessarily brash acts of late?" Narcissa inquired. "Perhaps he is trying to compensate."

"Nonsense!" Sirius protested, removing his arm from its perch on Remus' shoulders and leaning forward earnestly. "Harry knows we love him no matter what. We told him so!" 

Lucius scoffed. "But clearly, you are disappointed," he suggested. 

"No," Remus replied evenly. "Harry is still Harry."

"Even if it means I have no one to pass all my Gryffindor spirit-wear onto," Sirius added glumly.

"You never know," Narcissa laughed. "You couls always adopt."

"Gods, no!" Sirius exclaimed. "Harry's a darling. I wouldn't want to risk having to raise anyone more difficult." He shuddered dramatically.

"What, someone more like yourself?" Narcissa jabbed with a sly grin.

"Shut it, cousin," he snapped.

"All I'm saying is that perhaps its the Gryffindor who makes a difficult child," she replied airily, "and we were both blessed with darling little Slytherins."

"Ah, but there's hope for Harry yet," Sirius replied. "He's already had his first detention! I can't wait to see what he pulls next." He began maniacally rubbing his hands together and fake-laughing.

"I can't believe I let this terrible influence near my child," Lucius sighed, leaning onto Narcissa in his exasperation. 

Remus moved further from Sirius and watched him warily as he continued to act like a maniac.

"Neither can I."

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry learns the value of Slytherin's lesser known trait: fraternity.

The rest of the term went relatively smoothly. There were no more detentions or excursions into the forest, by the insistence of both Draco and Hermione. And so Harry, while clearly reluctant, eventually gave in and let his House's qualities (namely self-preservation) win over his strange Gryffindor bravery. 

Draco was grateful for that. As much as he wanted to be bold like Harry, he didn't want Harry's boldness to be the end of them both. 

They forgot almost entirely about Nicolas Flamel, Halloween night, and their suspicions about Quirrel and Snape, as they began to focus more and more on their schoolwork. Harry was falling behind in his classes, and Draco, being the good friend he was, offered to tutor him. Many lonf hours were spent helping Hary write his Potions essays, or trying to figure out what kind of fantastical story they could make up for History Of Magic.

Hermione helped whenever they needed her, but for the most part she stayed with her friends in Ravenclaw. Harry and Draco also tried to focus on cultivating friendships within their own House. It was becoming easier, as the Darker Slytherins began to forget that Draco was a 'traitor' or that Harry was a halfblood that destroyed the Dark Lord. And there were always the ones who didn't care in the first place; not all of Slytherin had a family history of being evil, if Harry was any proof of that.

Their closest frienda were the ones in their dorm. Blaise often joined them when they wanted to play games or talk about Quidditch. Theo would always be there when they were studying. He and Harry later became potions partners, because Draco couldn't stand his grade to be dropping with Harry's. 

Blaise wasn't much better, of course. However, no matter how badly he did, at least he didn't recieve the blunt of Snape's wrath. 

Snape, apparently, had forgotten about Halloween and his semi-friendliness, too. And Draco continued to mistrust Quirrel as much as Harry mistrusted Snape. But there was little they could do about either, and it affected their lives minimally anyway.  

So, they focused on other things, and they stopped exploring the castle after dark. Their only ventures were during the day on the weekends, which seemed to satisfy Harry enough. Draco didn't mind it, either, as the castle was much less scary during the day, and they were much less likely to get in trouble.

Their main goal was to figure out the locations of every common room. They did so, for the most part, by following other students.

Ravenclaw they already knew from Hermione's stories. Still, they would stand by the door for hours trying to figure out the riddles it threw at them. They didn't even want to get in; it was the riddles that they enjoyed.

Not-so-sympathetic Ravenclaw students would hang back and watch them in groups, occasionally offering hints when they were about to give up. Draco and Harry rarely did, of course, because they wanted the satisfaction of solving the riddle.

"What's greater than God, more evil than the devil? The poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it, you'll die," the door said.

"Money," Harry immediately replied.

The fourth year Ravenclaws behind them snickered. 

"No," Draco snapped, turning to address Harry. "The poor don't have money, and the rich don't need it!" 

"Technically, they still do," Harry replied poignantly, crossing his arms. 

"Yes, but you're wrong. Otherwise, the door would have opened," he replied, gesturing to the door.

An older Ravenclaw walked up. "What's the riddle?" he asked.

Draco repeated it to him. 

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing," he answered blandly, and was allowed entrance.

"What?" Draco exclaimed. "Nothing can't be greater than anything, let alone God!" he protested, kicking the door.

The fourth-years laughed again.

"And it's not evil!" Harry exclaimed. "Give us another one!"

And so it went, riddle after riddle. Draco was proud to be sufficiently better than Harry at them, though they never got it to open on their own.

The Gryffindors had been less inviting when they found Harry and Draco by their portrait hole. The Fat Lady in the painting was telling them off when they were discovered by the Weasley twins. 

"What're you two doing here?" they demanded, looking more amused than aggravated.

"Visiting Neville," Harry replied quickly.

Draco nodded earnestly. "Longbottom's a great pal," he replied, trying to go along with Harry. 

"They're snooping," the Fat Lady told the twins dryly, causing Harry and Draco to both turn red in embarrassment. "Though I wouldn't say you two are much more innocent," she added with a sniff.

"You make us sound like kindred spirits," one of the twins said. 

"We might be keen to help kindred spirits," the other added with a smirk. 

"We don't need your help!" Draco protested, slightly nervous. He doubted the Weasley twins could be helpful--he had heard dreadful stories about their pranks. As admirable as they were from a distance, he didn't want to be their next victim.

"I think you do. Don't they, George?" Fred asked. 

"Definitely," George agreed. "What was your plan here?" he asked them. 

"We didn't have one," Harry replied sourly. "We were just exploring."

"Right," Fred laughed, raising an eyebrow. " _Exploring_. George and I used _that_ excuse before."

"We really weren't!" Draco cried defensively, taking a few steps backward. "We'll leave you all alone!"

The twins both raised their eyebrows and exchanged a look. 

"Malfoy thinks we're scared of him," Fred chuckled, moving closer. 

"But _he_ should really be scared of _us_ ," George added with a maniacal grin. 

That was threatening enough to confirm Draco's fears. He held strong, though, refusing to abandon Harry. 

Harry, however, was thankfully just as keen to leave as Draco.

"We didn't have a plan to do anything," Harry told them insistently, beginning to pull Draco in the direction of the stairs. 

The twins blocked them. 

"You always need a plan," George informed them.

"If you're truly our kindred spirits, we should impart our wisdom to you," Fred added. 

"We're fine, thanks," Draco said nervously. "We just wanted to know where all the common rooms were."

"Hmm," George said, crossing his arms. "Found Hufflepuff yet?" he asked them. 

"No," Harry answered, having stopped moving to watch the twins carefully.

"Don't try and get in," Fred warned them. "It kicks you out if you're not  a Hufflepuff."

"The entrance is a bunch of barrels, in case you were wondering," George added nonchalantly. Why would he tell them where it was if they had just warned them not to go?

"Er, thanks," Harry said, probably pondering the same logic.

Of course, the twins' warning did not stop them.

That next weekend, they found the Hufflepuff common room. They followed a group of Hufflepuffs to get there, and they heard them use the password. 

"Let's go in," Harry whispered once the Hufflepuffs were gone.

"No!" Draco hissed, grabbing his shoulder before he could get away. "You heard what the twins said. We shouldn't try!"

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "And you believed them?" he inquired. 

Draco was left stuttering and unable to protest as Harry walked up to the barrels. 

"Rudy Hinkley," Harry said, repeating the password that the Hufflepuffs had used. 

One of the barrels opened, and Harry turned around to grin at Draco. Then, he crawled into it triumphantly. 

Draco watched quietly from a distance. He had a very bad feeling about this. 

And rightly so. A second later, Harry was flying backwards out of the barrel. He landed on his back with a yelp. 

"What did I tell you?" Draco asked him, walking over to help Harry up. 

"I think the twins said that because they knew I'd try," Harry grunted as he got up and dusted himself off. 

Draco snorted. "I think maybe they're the ones who should be in Slytherin, you dumb Gryffindor," Draco teased him. 

Harry punched him. "Cut it out. I'm just as Slytherin as everyone else!" he protested. 

"You're right," Draco laughed. "None of the houses have 'stupid' as a quality, not even Gryffindor!" He ducked out of the way as Harry went after him. 

"That's rude," Harry grumbled, turning around to leave. "I'm just as cunning as you, I bet. And even if I weren't, I bet I'm triple the Slytherin Crabbe and Goyle are. They haven't got ambition, or wits, or resourcefulness..." He kicked at the groung angrily as he walked. 

Draco felt a pang of regret. "You're right!" He called after him, hurrying to catch up. "I'm sorry I said anything." He realized that he might have hit a sore spot, and he felt sorry for it it. He didn't want Harry bitter with him. 

"It's alright," he forgave him. "I suppose I'm just nervous. I'm clearly not Gryffindor enough for Padfoot, but I don't feel as Slytherin as everyonr else. I don't know what I'm doing wrong..." 

Draco put a brotherly arm around Harry as they walked to reassure him. "You're fine. Besides, it's just who you are... You didn't choose," he reminded him. 

"Well..." Harry murmured.

"What?" demanded Draco. "You were sorted, Harry! It's not your fault." 

"I did choose," he answered sheepishly. "But you mustn't tell Padfoot, alright?" 

"What are you on about, Harry?" Draco insisted, drawing away from him and watching scrutinizingly. There was no way that Harry could have chosen, Draco knew. And if he could have, he would have chosen Gryffindor, of course.

"The Sorting Hat," Harry whispered earnestly. "I told it I wanted to go into Slytherin, and it let me." He hung his head low.

Draco kicked his ankle playfully. "And you think that's a bad thing, Potter? Where's your pride?" he teased him. So, Harry hadn't actually chosen. He just thought he had.

"It's not!" Harry exclaimed. "But what if I messed up? What if I don't really belong here?"

Draco saw he was crying. He stopped walking. "Sit down," he ordered, not caring that they were in the middle of a corridor.

Harry did so, slumping against the wall and sniffling. He didn't say anything, probably waiting for Draco to speak up. He sat down next to him.

"You didn't choose, Harry," he assured him. "That just makes no sense. The Sorting Hat doesn't care who you vanquished as a baby. You got Sorted just like everyone else," he said determinedly. 

"But, I--"

Draco cut him off. "No buts. Now, did you really want to be Sorted into Slytherin?" he questioned. He couldn't believe that he did, even if he did know that Harry was happy as one now. 

"Yes," Harry replied. "I really did."

"Why?"

"Because you are," Harry replied, nudging Draco good-naturedly. "I told you, I got my wish. I didn't want to be apart from my best friend." He smiled in spite of himself, and added, "So maybe it wasn't a mistake?"

"It wasn't!" Draco agreed insistently. "Mother would call that 'Slytherin fraternity,' I think," he added with a grin. 

"That's what the Hat said to me."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 1 month birthday to this fic!! :D
> 
> Also, expect MUCH less frequent updates this November. Sorry, but I have a project I have to do for school. Once I shell out 50,000 words for that, I'll be back to this!

When the term ended, they were all ready to go home for Christmas vacation. Draco had promised to spend a few days with Harry, of course. Part of him felt as if he needed to be there to save Harry if his dads were harsh with him about being a Slytherin, but for the most part, he knew Harry would be fine.

"They do love you," Draco reminded him as they packed their trunks. He had seen the way Moony and Padfoot doted over Harry, how they cherished his every word. They hung every one of his paintings on the wall in their kitchen, something Malfoy parents would never do. They were more openly loving than Draco's parents (most of the time), and the more he thought about it, the more sure he was Harry would be fine.

"I know," Harry replied, pausing to hold up his Slytherin scarf. Instead of packing it, he slung it around his neck. "I'm worried anyway, though. After all, what if they're still upset about Skeeter?" he wondered aloud. 

Draco scoffed and ended up doing a terrible folding job because he was too busy watching Harry.

"They'll be over it by now!" he exclaimed. "And if they're not, Mother and Father will have to drag them off to the sunroom and do what they do there."

Harry laughed at that. Draco was sure he remembered the sunroom. Whenever there was a problem, Mother and Father would solve it by sitting everyone down in the warm, relaxing room. Everyone would either sit in silence and meditate on it, or talk it out quietly. He thought it had to do something with Father's "ugly coping methods," as he had overhead Dumbledore tell them once. 

He didn't know much about his parents' old lives; all he heard was what he managed to eaveadrop in on, or what Mother would sometimes disclose. He knew that they had to do with why the other Slytherins didn't like him, though. 

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed loudly. 

"What?" Draco demanded, realizing he had zoned out and was half-bent over his trunk, holding a crumpled shirt. 

"What were you thinking about?" Harry asked, apparently unable to even have the courtesy to stifle his giggles. He had known Draco long enough to recognize when he got lost in wonderland like that. 

"My mother and father," Draco replied. "Whom we'll see soon, right? Unless we miss the train," he added, realizing they were running a little late.

"Right!" Harry exclaimed in agreememt, tossing the remainder of his things into his trunk unceremoniously, and closing it with a slam. 

Draco sighed and grudgingly threw the rest of his own things into the trunk. The semi-disorder was enough to bother him, but he tried not to let it get to him. He closed the trunk and chased after Harry. They would have to be quick to make it to Hogsmeade and the train.

They weren't too late, however. Blaise and Theo were waiting for them just outside the gates, trailing behind a much larger group of students. 

"What took you so long?" Theo demanded, already quickening his pace.

"You didn't have to wait for us," Harry grumbled through a smile.

"You know we did!" Blaise exclaimed, walking next to Draco.

"And thanks for that," Draco said, grateful not to be fully alone. Yes, Harry was wonderful, but he didn't do much to protect against stares. 

They walked at the back of the group and chattered about Quidditch. Theo was a fan of the Wimbourne Wasps, Blaise the Holyhead Harpies, and Harry of course adored Puddlemere.

Draco's Father wasn't the biggest Quidditch fan, but he had taken him and Harry once to a Falmouth Falcons game (against Puddlemere), so Draco held a kind of fondness for them.

"The Harpies, Blaise?" Harry questioned with a frown. "Really? They're _girls_ ," he protested.

Blaise grimaced and kicked a stone.  "What would you know about _girls_ , Harry?" he demanded. "You don't even have a mum!" 

Both Harry and Draco cringed. Harry had a bitterness about that at times, and Blaise was particularly defensive when it came to his own mum, who was the strong parental figure in his life. 

"It's just Quidditch," Draco intervened quietly, taking Harry by the elbow defensively.

Blaise glared at him, glowering a moment longer at Harry before moving faster, towards the now close train.

"Sorry," Theo mumbled, hurrying after Blaise.

"We can sit together alone, then," Draco grumbled, staying close to Harry as they boarded the train. They chose a lone compartment towards the back, where they would be left alone.

The train ride back from Hogwarts went quickly, filled with sugary treats and finger-drawing on the fogged up windows. Winter was upon the countryside, and the Christmas spirit had filled all the students on the train.

It felt nice to he going home, Draco thought. 

"I didn't ever think I'd miss Godric's Hollow so much," Harry admitted, staring out the window through the shape of a Christmas tree he had drawn on the glass.

"Why not?" Draco asked him, watching his face curiously. 

"Dunno," Harry responded, turning to look at him. "Maybe because I was gone so much before anyhow? But this is different. You know, without my dads." He shook his head and stared down at his lap.

Draco watched him quizzically and grinned. "But you have me!" he exclaimed in false protest.

"I do!" Harry giggled. "But I miss them," he added wistfully. 

Draco supposed he could understand that. He missed his library afternoons with Mother and the familiar sound of Father talking about the Ministry. His relationship with his parents was nothing like Harry's cheery, casual one with his, but it didn't mean he couldn't miss them, too.

"Ooh, here comes the snack cart!" Harry exclaimed, distracted from their conversation. Draco focused, too, on the arriving mountain of sweets on wheels.

He and Harry both bought copious amounts of Chocolate Frogs, and a few pumpkin pasties as well. They has a fun time unwrapping their frogs and letting them hop around the compartment.

Finally, however, after much giggling ans chasing, they managed to catch them again and eat them. They eagerly compared cards once they were done.

"Two Dumbledores," Draco muttered bitterly. "It's not so exciting to have them when I know the man..." 

Harry laughed absently, staring at one of his own.

"Hmm," he said pensively, turning over the card, "I guess you were right about Flamel. I got his card. It says right there about the Philospher's Stone."

Draco snatched it away from him to see. There it was, Nicolas Flamel.

"Of course I was right," he snapped, smirking at the card. "I'm always right."

Harry rolled his eyes and took the card back, tucking it into his robe pocket.

"Then what does Flamel have to do with Hogwarts, if you're so _right_?" he quesioned him, crossing his arms and smirking right back at him. 

Draco glared at him, wondering why Harry had to choose the most inconvenient occasions to act like a Slytherin.

"It doesn't matter!" he protested, not wanting to fall into the trap of being wrong. "Let's just change out of our school robes, okay? We're almost to Kings Cross."

The rest of the train ride flew by quickly, and soon they were slowing to a stop in London. Both Draco and Harry rushed to put their things together, and then they were shuffling out with the rest of the students to meet their parents.

Platform 9 3/4 was crowded and noisy, and the cool December air hit him like a wall after the warmth of the train.

Mother and Father were waiting for Draco in a corner away from the crowd, and to his surprise, they were chatting with Padfoot and Moony.

"Father wasn't joking when he said they were beginning to get along," he whispered to Harry.

"No kidding," Harry replied, pushing his cart a little faster as he waved to his dads. He was distracted from Draco once they noticed him, immediately turning away from their conversation.

"Look who it is!" Padfoot cried, running to Harry and swooping him up in a hug. "I missed you so much, little Lightning!"

Draco stopped his cart to watch in amusement. 

"Padfoot!" Harry wailed, laughing and struggling against his grip. "Don't be embarrasing!"

Padfoot let him go and kissed his forehead, ruffling his already-impossible hair.

"Isn't this what you wanted? To act like a family in public?" he asked, laughing. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Hey, everyone! I'm Harry's dad!" He spun around in a circle, and Harry watched and giggled.

"So am I!" Moony exclaimed, striding over to embrace Harry as well.

Several people on the platform stared at Harry and his eccentric parents, but none of them cared enough to react.

"It's exactly what I wanted," Harry told them, not as loudly, and hugging them both again.

Draco felt a goofy smile forming on his face; he was happy for Harry, who was finally getting his wish, and he was glad that his dads didn't seem to be rejecting him after all. He watched a moment longer, and then pushed his cart over to Mother and Father, who were also watching Harry's family with bemused smiles.

"Hello, Mother, Father," Draco greeted them, not bothering to try and embrace them in public. It was not something purebloods did, he knew, no matter how crazy and happy Harry's dads were. 

And, a quiet part of himself admitted, how much he envied that. 

"Hello, darling," Mother hummed, pleasantly surprising him by pulling him into a hug anyway. "We've missed you."

"I missed you, too," he replied, breaking away to smile up at Father. He looked less tired than he had remembered, and especially happy to see him.

Father placed a hand on his shoulder. "Shall we head home?" he inquired, glancing across the platform.

Draco cast one last look over at Harry, who was giggling as Moony shrunk his luggage and Padfoot talked to Harry's owl. He seemed so happy already to be back with them, even if he had spent the entire term worrying about them.

And for some reason, Draco felt hurt. Perhaps because Harry had forgotten him already.

"Yes, Father," he agreed. "Let's go."

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half of this chapter was deleted and I had to rewrite it, so I'm very sorry about the later update.

The first few days of winter break were dull, to say the least. 

Draco had grown accustomed to the hubbub of life at Hogwarts; he always had something to do, someone to talk to, somewhere to be. But back at home, he was mostly by himself. 

Granted, that had its benefits. He could sleep however late he wanted without fear of lying awake and listening to snores or talking. He could have whatever he wanted at meal times, do whatever he wanted during the day. He even got to spend time reading with Mother, though Father would mostly be away at work until Christmas Day. 

As fun as those things were, it was no fun that he didn't have friends to share it with. He would have settled for Crabbe or Goyle by the end of his third day home, having had stared at a wall for an hour straight. 

Luckily, however, he didn't have to. Draco was most elated to find Harry's head poking out of their Floo that night after dinner. 

"Sorry if it's a bit late," Harry muttered.

Draco got down onto the floor. "Of course it's not too late! It's hardly eight o'clock!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, really," Harry responded through the flames, "but I was wondering if you want to come sleep over tonight? Or tomorrow, even?"

Draco then realized it was a bit late to visit, but he really wanted to, so he ran to find his mother and ask. Normally, she would say no to spending the night at Harry's house, but perhaps things had changed?

He found her in the library, reading with Father. 

"May I go to Harry's house?" he asked them immediately, excited. 

"What's the rush, Draco?" Mother interrogated. "Come sit with us."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "But I did last night," he objected, "and Harry's in the floo! He wants me to spend the night."

Mother frowned, glancing over at Father. 

"You see Harry all the time now, Dragon," she replied hesitantly. "Don't you want to spend time with us?"

"I do, Mother," he assured her with a smile, "but I'm terribly bored, and it will only be one night, and I can be back in the morning!" 

Father rolled his eyes and turned to Mother. "Let him go, Narcissa. Look how excited he is."

Draco blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected Father to advocate at all; didn't he hate Padfoot?

"But, darling," Mother whispered, "you know how I feel about... you know...." she trailed off, looking uneasy. 

Draco didn't know what she meant exactly, but he did know she didn't like him around Padfoot and Moony alone. He didn't know why, of course...

"I think we've both learned we have nothing to worry about," Father replied evenly, speaking quietly. "Draco will turn out fine, darling," he assured her. 

"May I, Mother?" Draco pleaded, still perplexed. 

Mother sighed, and glared at Father. Reluctantly, she said, "Go tell Harry you will be over in a few minutes. You must pack your overnight bag."

Draco grinned widely, running over to hug her and Father before darting out the room and thanking them. Moments later, he was back in his bedroom, where Harry's head was still waiting in the fireplace. 

"Good news?" Harry asked, grinning like he knew the answer already. 

"Yes!" He was completely elated, and Harry most certainly saw it. "Mother told me I could come!"

Harry looked surprised and blinked. "Well, I'll see you in a few minutes?" he asked cheerily. 

"Yeah!" Draco agreed, already searching for a bag to put his things in. He heard a crackle in the fire as Harry retreated back home. 

He found a change of clothes, and decided he needn't being anything else. It's not like he had any new toys to show off (yet). That would be towards the end of vacation. 

He darted back downstairs and found Mother and Father still together, Father murmuring something to her while she held her eyes shut a few feet away from him. 

"May I go now?" he begged, practically jittering. "Take the floo?"

Mother's eyes snapped open, and Father stood up. Mother looker as though she was about to say something, but Father just placed a hand on her shoulder temporarily, and then began to walk towards Draco. 

"Come, Draco. I will help you with the floo." He placed an arm around his shoulders and led him out the room. Draco was reminded of the patronly affection that he had missed while he was at school. 

Of course, it was nothing like the affection Harry recieced from his fathers, but it was affection all the same. 

Once they were out of the sun room, Father began to speak quietly. 

"Your mother _has_ grown to enjoy Sirius and Remus," he assured him, steering him towards the fireplace in the dining area. "We both have. I'm afraid she is just too concerned at times." 

"What for?" Draco asked. He knew that mother didn't like him staying with Harry, but he still didn't quite grasp it. Father certainly wasn't opposed to it, and there were few occasions where _he_ was approving anything. 

Father sighed and paused in front of the fireplace. Draco looked up at him earnestly, feeling very small all of a sudden. At school, there weren't nearby adults to make hin feel small (especially not Flitwick). 

"It's nothing, little dragon," he promised him, bending down and placing a hand on his face. "Your mother just is upset that... Well, they're not like us."

Draco crossed his arms and pouted. "This isn't about Harry being a halfblood, is it? Or Moony being a werewolf?" He set his jaw in defiance and did his best to glare at Father. "Because Harry told me about those, and he explained to me why they're both perfectly okay."

He felt Father stiffen, and he hadn't removed his hand from Draco's face. He gently rubbed some nonexistent stain away, smiled wryly, and stood straight again.

"That's not it, precisely."

Draco didn't believe him. He knew what Father thought of muggleborns and half bloods and the like, even if he did nothing to them. Father was a nice person at heart, he thought, but from what he could tell there were a lot of things that he only didn't do or say because of his "contract."

The contract that let Draco live a happy life, Mother had told him. 

"No, your mother doesn't care about those things so much," Father continued, staring at a spot on the wall. "None the less, Harry makes you happy, and that is all I care about. And I shall repeat it to the _Lady_ as much as possible till it gets through her skull."

Draco gasped and giggled. He never heard Father speak about Mother, at least not with her around. He had never seen Father look so cheerily determined. He really did love her, and so did Draco--even if she was weird abour Harry sometimes. 

That was a way his and Harry's families were alike. Their parents loved each other, he could see it in their eyes and in the way he spoke. Even if Father was a little distant sometimes, or Mother a bit high-strung, they still loved as kindly as Padfoot and Moony. 

"You best be going," Father told him in a stage whisper. "Harry must be waiting for you." He took the bag of Floo powder from the mantel and tossed a handful into the fireplace, making it surge green. 

"Speak clearly, now!" He urged Draco towards the fireplace. 

Draco realized then that he would be flooing alone. He had never done that before; he always went through with his parents. Suddenly nervous, he took a tentative step towards the flames. 

"Godric's Hollow!" he enunciated, and then stepped into the fire. A stumble and a _whoosh_ later, he was on the other side.  

The living room of Godric's Hollow was lit by bright candles and smelled like cinnamon. The first thing Draco noticed was the shimmering tree, and then the lights, and then Harry, curled up on the couch.

"Took you long enough." He sat uo and walked towards Draco, giving him a friendly shove on the shoulder. "How's home?"

Draco shrugged. "Boring. How about you?" he asked, slinging his bag onto the sofa. 

"You mean Padfoot and Moony?" Harry asked in a whisper, leaning in close and sitting down with Draco. "Brilliant, actually. They haven't mentioned my House once, and we've already gone out into public twice!"

He smiled and crossed his legs. He was so glad that Harry was finally able to be open about his life and his family. He deserved it, he really did. 

"I'm glad!" Draco chuckled. "What did you need me for, then?"

He was only teasing, but Harry seemed taken aback. 

"I always need you!" he protested, watching Draco with piercing green eyes. "I can't stay with my family forever!"

Draco laughed, but was interrupted when Moony walked into the room, carrying a tray of tea. 

"Come now, Harry," he joshed, "we can't be that bad!" He placed the tray on the table and ruffled Harry's hair. 

Draco saw the familiar bright red tea in the cups, and smiled as he breathed in a lungful of cinnamon-y steam.

"Not if you've always got this!" he proclaimed, taking a teacup and drinking without waiting for it to cool. Moony had charmed all his mugs to make the drink the perfect temperature.

"Thanks, Moony." Harry took a mug and slurped from it, and Moony sat down next to him. 

Draco closed his eyes and savored the tea for a moment. It was his absolute favorite. 

"How's school?" Moony inquired, pulling him back to reality. 

"Alright," Draco replied, turning to look at the wizard. He was younger than Father, but he had more wrinkles. Just around the corners of his eyes, though. Probably from all the smiling. 

" _Just_  alright?" asked Moony, raising his eyebrows. 

Draco shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about school or Slytherin, not if Harry had managed to avoid the topic.  

Then, Padfoot drifted into the room, dressed in Muggle clothes and grinning hysterically. 

"What kind of adventures have you and Harry gotten into?" He inquired merrily, practically hopping onto the big chair across from them. He leaned forward eagerly and smirked. "I hear you two got caught and had to go to detention in the Forest." 

Harry turned red and lowered his head. Draco squirmed as he realized he was supposed to answer.

"We did," he replied hesitantly. "It was, er, my fault. I made Harry do it." He didn't want his friend to take the blame. What if his parents blamed any bad behavior on him becoming a Slytherin?

Harry let out a small groan as Padfoot and Moony both exchanged curious glances. 

"Don't lie, Draco," Moony chided, something twinkling in his eye. 

"We both know Harry dragged you into it. We know you both well enough." Padfoot pulled his feet up onto the chair, perching now, and smiled mischeviously. "What I want to know is, why'd you let yourselves get caught?"

Harry's head jerked up, and Draco's eyes widened. 

"What?" they both asked. 

Moony picked up a mug and stirred it. "Didn't we tell you those stories about what we used to get up to?" he asked them absently. 

Padfoot nodded and snatched the cup from Moony's hands, which resulted in a growl of protest. He ignored it, and said, "We want you to to have fun, you know. Just don't get caught."

The look on Harry's face was one of pure relief. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice all breathy. 

"Well, first tell us what kind of things you've been up to," Padfoot suggested, taking a gulp of Moony's drink. He winced. It was probably too hot for him, having first adjusted to Moony's taste. 

Harry snickered, and then replied, "Mostly exploring."

Padfoot did not respond, as he was busy chewing on his tongue and making a sour face. He definitely burnt his mouth. 

Moony took his mug back and drank from it without flinching. "Find anything interesting?" he inquired. 

"No," Draco grumbled, taking another warm, sweet gulp of the spicy tea. "Nothing besides teachers."

"We found Snape in a forbidden corridor!" Harry chimed in, a grin settling on his face. 

Draco rolled his eyes. "He was after Quirrel, remember? Quirrel was there, too." He was ignored, though.

"How interesting," Moony remarked, his bushy eyebrows riding high on a creased forehead. 

"Snivellus is up to no good, then," Padfoot muttered, only half-teasing, having gotten over his burn. In fact, he went to take his own mug from the tray. 

Draco didn't protest; he knew he would lose the argument. In this household, at least. 

"And we found all the common rooms," he added. 

Harry huffed. " _After_ you stopped agreeing to go exploring at night. We don't really find anything exciting, because Draco is afraid of getting caught." He crossed his arms and gave Draco a sour look. He shrugged it off. 

"Put it to Slytherin self preservation," Padfoot replied casually. "But he's right. Getting caught _is_ an issue."

"Perhaps we offer them some help, then?" Moony asked, taking another sip of his drink and peering over at Padfoot with a look that was positively playful.

"Not _that_ , you mean," he whispered reverently. "We can't show them that yet." 

"Show us what?" Harry demanded, glaring at them both.

"Nothing, dearest son," Moony told him, biting back a grin.

Harry grimaced, but didn't protest.

"But there are other things we can tell you," Padfoot assured him. "But first, tell us. What's been your biggest venture so far?"

Draco shrugged. "I told you. We explore," he said. "I mean, after we got caught by Snape and Quirrel on the fourth floor? Not much."

"Well, what was so special about the fourth floor?" Moony asked cautiously, narrowing his eyes a little. 

Harry made a small, frustrated groaning sound that Draco didn't quite understand. 

"I don't know. Ask Harry," he grumbled, not liking the interrogation. "He was the one saying he was following his _scar_." He scoffed, but then realized that he had probably done something wrong as Harry winced. 

"What about your scar, Harry?" Moony asked, his voice low and wary. 

Harry turned red and stared at his hands. "Nothing, Da," he assured him, using a title that Draco knew he rarely did. "I made it up."

"No, you didn't," Draco insisted, shaking his head. "We took you to the hospital wing, remember?" 

Harry elbowed him and gave him a dark look. "Shut up," he growled.

"You went to the hospital wing?" Padfoot demanded, springing from his seat and putting Harry's face in his hands. "For your scar?" He looked extremely worried, but also very compassionate.

Harry shook free and rubbed his face. "It was nothing!" he cried.

"Harry? What's the matter?" Draco asked, wondering if he had done something wrong. 

"I don't know," Harry grumbled, self-consciously touching the lightning bolt on his forehead. 

Moony sighed and rubbed his face in his hands. "Do you know anything else about this Fourth Floor?" he asked Draco, tired and knowing. 

Draco looked at Harry, a silent apology. "We found out it has to do with Nicolas Flamel," he confessed quietly. "And that Snape was trying to keep Quirrel away from it."

Padfoot had placed a comforting hand on Harry, who looked more embarrassed than anything. He watched Draco with a pensive expression. 

"This isn't good," he murmured, going stiff. He met eyes with Moony. "Scar. The fourth floor. Flamel. You don't think..." he trailed off, looking panicked. 

"I do," Moony whispered, going pale. 

Harry and Draco were both immensely confused, but the adults seemed to have tuned them out. 

"Do you think it's Snape?" Padfoot asked apprehensively, furrowing his brow.

"Nonsense, Sirius!" Moony snapped, his eyes suddenly widening. "We can trust him."

"But how do we know?" Padfoot demanded, something stubborn lighting in his dark eyes that Draco had seen many times in Harry's green ones. 

Moony set his jaw. "The same way we know we can trust Lucius and Narcissa. And, arguably, they committed greater crimes."

Draco, already stiff, found his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open. "What?" He choked, trying to completely understand their words. 

Crimes? His parents had committed crimes? That didn't make any sense...

But didn't it? 

He thought about the contract, about his father's muttered words about blood purity, about his mother's whispered concerns about their safety, Dumbledore's secret meetings and thinly veiled warnings...

About the Slytherins calling him traitor. 

Oh, why hadn't he seen it before? Before he could stop himself, tears began streaming down his face. He bit his lip, but was unable to suppress the immediate hiccough that made his chest spasm. 

"Oh, gods..." Moony whispered. In a moment, he was on his feet and darting away into the kitchen. 

Padfoot was moving away from Harry and wrapping Draco in comforting, fatherly arms. He didn't stop crying, though. 

"Draco?" Harry asked, sounding panicked. "Why are you crying?"

A sob made Draco stumble over his words. He didn't know why he was crying. He never cried. And all of a sudden, he was. 

"What d-do you mean, about my parents?" He asked Padfoot, who was trying to calm him by shushing and rubbing up and down his back. 

"Nothing, little snitch," he said quietly, using the nickname he had given him when they had first met. Mother had hated it. 

Mother hated a lot of things about Padfoot and Moony, he reasoned, even if she was friendlier with them now. He didn't know why she hated them, or what for...

Thinking about that made him hiccough again. Padfoot shushed him again, and Harry let out a distressed noise.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked Padfoot.

Moony came in with a warm cloth and a piece of chocolate. He wiped Draco's face with the cloth and tried to give him the chocolate, but Draco didn't want it. 

"What are you thinking about, Draco?" Moony asked, looking nervous. "What's wrong?" He wiped at Draco's nose with the cloth. 

"Is that why Mother doesn't like me coming here?" he asked at last. "Because we're bad, and you're not?"

Both Padfoot and Moony were quiet for a moment, stuck on silence. They looked terribly confused. 

Padfoot pulled some of Draco's hair behind his ear. "Oh, no. You're not bad, Draco..."

Draco shoved him away and moved to the end of the couch. He didn't like being treated like a little kid. He was eleven years old, and he was going to cry without Harry's dads babying him.

But then, he sobbed again, and he realized he was acting like a little kid. 

"Then what is it, then?" he cried, pulling his knees to his chest. "What did I do wrong? Why do the other Slytherins call me traitor?" He began to rock back and forth, all the feelings and thoughts he had  built up over the school year crashing down upon him all at once. 

"You've got it backwards, Draco," Moony assured him, keeping his distance. "You didn't do anything."

Padfoot nodded and moved to press a kiss on the top of his head, something only Mother would have done to him. 

"The world treats you badly, Draco. But you aren't bad," he said. Sadness touched at his voice, as if he were realizing something. 

Harry jumped out of his seat and squished in next to Draco, giving him little room. 

"What _happened_?" he pleaded, looking at Draco with piercing, confused eyes. 

"People don't trust the Malfoys," Padfoot replied quietly.

"In the same way you don't trust Snape. Or the way people don't want werewolves around," Moony added pointedly. "And it's silly, because not only does Dumbledore trust them, but you know you can trust them, too. Don't you, Harry?"

Harry blinked, and gave Draco a hug, trapping him against the sofa. He couldn't help but laugh, which made him feel lighter. Better.  

"Are you okay?" Harry asked him, breaking away and frowning. 

Draco sniffled and wiped at his nose. "I don't like crying," he grumbled in response.

Padfoot smiled, looking relieved. He stood up and took Moony's hand. 

"Well, I hope you don't have to again," Moony replied. "I wish people wouldn't persecute others. Especially not the little ones..." he trailed off, something personal glinting in his eyes. 

Harry nodded firmly. "And if anyone does that to you, I will personally _persecute_ them."  

Draco couldn't help but giggle at that, bubbling over the last little bit of mucus in his throat. 

"I don't think that means what you think it means," he told Harry.

Harry grimaced. "Whatever," he grumbled. "I'll still stand up for you."

"Of course you will." Padfoot chuckled. "You've still got that Gryffindor loyalty in you!"

Harry turned red, then he seemed to stiffen his resolve. He gave Padfoot a defiant look, clearly not liking being called a Gryffindor. 

"Actually, I don't think it is," he countered, lifting his chin. "Slytherins are known for having _fraternity_ , so of course I'll stick up for him." A smirk lined his mouth, and Draco couldn't help but mimic him. 

Moony clutched his hand to his mouth and doubled over, laughing silently. Padfoot just blinked, staring at his son as if he had just grown a third arm.

"You used that word right," Draco snickered, internally proud of Harry for standing up for his Slytherin identity.

Padfoot frowned, looking distantly. "Well, you're feeling better," he mumbled shaking his head. "It's late. Why don't we all head to bed?"

Draco yawned at the suggestion, and Harry did, too. 

"Goodnight," they said. 

Padfoot, still dazed, shook his head. "Good night, boys." He took Moony by the waist and they left the room, Moony snickering and nudging Padfoot, who yelped in protest. 

Harry smiled and looked over ar Draco. "You're okay, though?" he asked again. 

"Yes, I told you that," Draco replied with an eye roll. "Though, good work with what you said to your dads," he added. 

Harry blushed and scratched his head. "You think?"

Draco nudged him cheekily, and nodded in confirmation. He yawned again, though, and slumped against the sofa, suddenly exhausted after all the crying. 

Harry's eyes drifted to the hunk of chocolate sitting on the table in front of the sofa. 

"Wanna share that?" He asked. "You might need it."

Draco muttered a quiet "yes", his eyes already drooping. He drifted into a nether world of near-sleep, but was jolted awake when he hard Harry snap the chocolate.

"Come on," Harry grumbled, stuffing some chocolate into Draco's hand. "Let's at least go to my room, where there's blankets and a mattress for you fall asleep on." 

"Okay, okay," he conceded, stumbling after Harry to the room. He didn't even remember eatinf his chocolate. 

Just falling asleep quickly, quietly, slight unease tugging him into strange dreams. Dissatisfaction clung to the edges of his mind. 

None of his questions had been answered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wondering why almost all of the comments on this story begin with "aww draco" or "poor draco." Then, I reread this chapter after writing it and realized.  
> Poor Draco. :'(
> 
> Also, hint: Remus and Sirius are part of the Order of Phoenix, so they know a little about the Stone being on the fourth floor.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kinda mushy chapter focusing on the parents and their flaws, concerns, and prejudices.

Lucius took a long, deep breath before he stepped back into the bedroom, where Narcissa was lying down stiffly and trying to read a book. 

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

He chanted positive things to himself to help curb the frustration he was feeling. The last thing he wanted to do was end up getting upset and hurting his darling wife. He may have been a Death Eater at one time, but he had morals at least, and that included _never_  hitting one's wife or children. 

And as a redeemed Death Eater, he would most certainly not do so. 

But after such a long week at work, and not being able to see his son, he was unpredictable. And frustrated, and tired, and completely _done_. And then, Narcissa had to act prejudiced again, after she had been treating Remus and Sirius so well.

Lucius almost cringed as he realized he was defending them, something he couldn't have imagined a number of years ago.  

It wasn't as though there weren't things they did he disapproved of, of course, or that he was any more of an accepting individual than Narcissa. 

He just thought that after all they had been through together, Narcissa could give them a break. He also thought that she needed to acknowledge Draco's happiness, and that he would remain the same child that he was, no matter who his friends' parents were.  

He closed his eyes, focused himself, and opened them. He was ready to join Narcissa. 

"Are you alright, sweet?" he asked her, forcing calm into his voice as he slid under the silk sheets. 

She looked as though she were forcing the same calm onto herself as she shut the book and placed it on the bedside table. Without turning to face him, she spoke. 

"You really believe Draco won't be under their influence?"

Lucius bit his tongue, wishing she could just realize how ridiculous she sounded. 

"No, I do not," he answered curtly. "I don't think that it's anything that can be _influenced_ , Narcissa." 

She shifted and sat up a little straighter, looking concerned. "But, Lucius... What if they _do_ something to him?" she whispered, widening her eyes and looking terrified.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, and reached out to cup her face. "Darling, you're worrying about nothing. This is Sirius and Remus, not anyone else. You _know_ you can trust them," he reminded her quietly. "Wouldn't you say they're our friends now?"

She didn't respond. She only continued to stare at him in fear. 

He sighed and took his cue to continue. "We have known them for years now, and they have never laid a finger on him, and nor has he seemed to take any interest in their _activities_ ," he reminded her with a grimace. "Because Draco is _eleven_ , Narcissa, and the two of them are no more promiscuous than you or I." 

Narcissa blinked, and a tear slid down her face. "How do you know, though?" Her voice was cracked, and she began to croak out more words, words that she had probably thought too often. "And Draco is gone at Hogwarts now. He won't be eleven forever, Lucius, and I'm so worried he might--"

Lucius pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't worry about it, Narcissa. He will be _fine_ , no matter if he ends up loving men or women. Remus and Sirius are trusted friends of our family now, and they shall remain so."

Narcissa bit her lip, but laid down and closed her eyes. Apparently, she did not want to argue. 

"When did you start thinking this way?" she asked quietly, sounding irked. 

Lucius froze for a moment, realizing he was slightly unsure. Of course, it might have been because he was surrounded by it during his days on the Slytherin Quidditch team... But he didn't want to tell Narcissa that. She might revoke Draco's broom privelege, and then he would never get to play the sport.

Instead, he went with something much milder.

"I think after this past decade of trying to change, of repenting my crimes, I've learned that there's much worse things one can do than love another man." He sighed, hoping that was enough to statisfy her. 

Narcissa snorted softly. "Even if they were muggle, perchance?"

Lucius stiffened, and silently lay down, pulling the sheets up to cover him. 

"We will cross that bridge when we get there," he muttered crossly. 

"And _I'm_ the bigot," Narcissa huffed, always the one to have the last word. 

* * *

Remus and Sirius sat on their porch. The stars were out, and it was freezing cold, but they had warming charms to keep them comfortable. 

It was silent. Draco and Harry had most likely fallen asleep, as neither of the men heard any whispered chattering from their son's bedroom. 

"Do you think Draco will be alright?" Remus asked quietly. "I would hate to return him to Narcissa as an emotional wreck."

Sirius laughed softly, though he knew it would be quite grave if Narcissa chose to invoke her wrath upon them. 

"He'll be fine," he murmured reassuringly. "He's got Harry with him." 

Remus' breath clouded the cold air, and he drew close to Sirius, wrapping himself in his arms. "Speaking of Harry," he said with a grin, "he seemed pretty adament about the Slytherin thing."

"I noticed," Sirius grumbled grudgingly. "Though I suppose I'm happy he said something about it. He's been very quiet about it since coming home."

"I agree," Remus confirmed, letting out another cloud of frosty breath. "He seemed more himself around Draco."

Sirius flinched, but forced himself to relax and lifted a hand to fiddle with Remus' curls.

"You don't think Harry's, well, _uneasy_ around us, do you?" he asked nervously. "That I've made him uncomfortable with my beliefs?"

Remus' breath hitched, and he broke away to look at Sirius compassionately. 

"No, not at all, Sirius," he promised quietly. "I think it's just that Harry's growing up, and he's getting closer to his friends."

Sirius just grimaced, dark thoughts clouding his mind. He thought about his parents, how he hated to be home because they resented his being a Gryffindor, how he grew to despise them...

He was pulled from his thoughts when Remus kissed him on the cheek.

"I know exactly what you're thinking, Sirius," he said, "and you are _nothing_ like them." 

"Aren't I?"

Remus scowled and kissed him again. "If you were," he said, "I would take Harry far away and you would never see him again."

"Good to know," Sirius huffed. He was grateful, of course. He cared most about Harry's safety, though he hoped in his heart that he would never be a danger to his son. 

Funny how they had begun to think of Harry as their child. In that first year or so, before they had even considered themselves to be in a relationship, they had tried to emphasize that he wasn't their child. They had so glorified James and Lily, tried to convince themselves they would in no way replace them (as Dumbledore insisted).

But between cradling the tiny baby Harry in their arms, teaching him to talk, they had realized they couldn't do that. Harry needed parents, people to love them. 

And in their attempts to hide their parenthood from the world, as loving as they were to him, just ended up hurting Harry anyway. 

A teat slid down his face, and Remus wiped it away. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, embracing Sirius again. 

"Harry, of course," he replied with a sigh. "He's growing up. And we've tried to hide him from the world, and I just don't know if that was a good thing."

"We had to, love," Remus replied earnestly. "It was for his own good."

"I just want him to be happy," Sirius choked out, and more tears began to escape him. If it weren't for the warming charms, they might have hurt his face in the cold.

Remus shivered against him. "I do, too, Sirius," he whispered. 

"And you'll think he'll be happy in Slytherin?" Sirius asked. "What if we did something wrong? What if it was because we raised him to be a dark person somehow? What if he's--"

Remus clamped a hand over his mouth. "You're spouting bullshit, love." He dropped his hand away and let it rest on Sirius' collarbone. "It has nothing to do with how he was raised. It's the way he is. You of all people should know that."

"But, Rem, Slytherins are characteristically Dark," he replied, panic rising in his chest. "We can't just leave him to that all the time, we can't let him be corrupted..." He buried his face in his hands, swarmed by memories of the war, of his parents...

Remus stood up and cancelled the warming charms, jolting Sirius with the cold.

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "He's already been around the Malfoys for the past four years, and you and I can agree that they're our friends now."

Sirius closed his eyes, knowing how hypocritcal he sounded. But he was afraid. His son was growing up, had left them, and he wanted to have someone to blame.

So he blamed Slytherins, like he always had. As a child, he blamed his parents. In Hogwarts, he blamed his Slytherin enemies. And then, the War...

But there were Gryffindor Death Eaters, and Ravenclaw Death Eaters, and even Hufflepuff Death Eaters. It wasn't all about good versus evil, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. 

"Think about Draco," Remus continued, practicality making his voice go sharp. "That sweet little boy, sniffling on our sofa, not even knowing that his parents were criminals. Is he Dark? Evil?" He crossed his arms and watched Sirius expectantly. 

"No."

"And think of Lucius and Narcissa, how much they've changed, how doting and kind they can be. Are they evil?" 

Sirius grimaced. "Kind of."

"Aren't we all?" Remus asked, taking Sirius' hand and pulling him to his feet. "It's in all of us, love. Some of us are just more susceptible to losing ourselves to it."

Sirius frowned. That made Lucius and Narcissa sound... Well, brave. Strong, to overcome that evil.

Remus kissed his cheek again. "Harry will be fine," he promised. 

"Thank you," Sirius breathed, kissing his partner once more. "I'm sorry, you know."

"I know."

"Cast the warming charms again," he requested. burrowing himself again into Remus' warm touch. "You know I'm rubbish at them."

Remus complied, and there was nothing to talk about for several minutes. They both mulled over their thoughts while the charm seeped its way back into their bones, making the cold air bearable.

"What about Harry's scar, though?" he asked, remembering suddenly. "What did you think of that?"

Remus was quiet for a long time, gently stroking Sirius' back. 

"I don't know," he admitted at last. "I'm worried, though. We'll have to talk to Dumbledore."

Sirius frowned, thinking about Draco's concerns about the Dark Arts professor. Surely Dumbledore knew about that?

"They'll probably want to go back to that corridor," he grumbled. "They can't. It's not safe, no matter  what they suspect. It's not two first years' job to protect the Stone."

"I agree," Remus murmured, beginning to sway back and forth, exhaustion lining his features. "I'll talk to them in the morning, too, and tell them what I can."

Sirius yawned. "Sounds like a plan, love." He broke away and began to move towards the house. "I think we should be getting to bed, though."

Remus nodded in agreement, following him into the house. 

"We've got to keep those boys safe." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm realizing that this story is dragging itself out, and I'm definitely going to need a novel-lengthed story per year. So, would you all mind if this became a series instead of one long story?  
> In the beginning this was kinda just going to be a backstory for the eventual budding romance of the two Slytherins, but it's clearly taken a new depth and has a life of its own...


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your positive feedback! I never expected this story to recieve so much support. I hope you're still enjoying it!  
> Also, I think I lied when I said I wouldn't be updating as often this month. I'm enjoying writing this more than the other thing (though I am falling behind).

Draco awoke the next morning in Harry's bed, warm and cozy, weak morning light streaming onto his face. He was on his back, staring up at the wall, which was splattered with blue and red and green. Harry had told him it was from his first stunt with accidental magic, and they hadn't gotten around to removing it ever.

On the wall, a dozen things were hung up--little mementos of Harry's childhood.

A photograph of Harry and Padfoot and Moony splattered with colorful powders in front of a skinny cow. A drawing of a tree signed by Neville. The envelope from Harry's Hogwarts letter. A picture of the Potters. And, of course, several drawings and letters from Draco, including the very first.

It was a crude depiction of Harry on the tire swing. His green eyes took up half of his face and his hair was just a huge scribble of a brown pencil. The tire hung in midair, it seemed. 

He smiled at the memory. Back then, Harry was all he wanted. He had no friends. And he was so very lucky to have him now, even when he felt so sour about himself.

It wasn't until a moment later that he noticed that Harry was curled up on the floor in a pile of blankets, staring up at Draco with open eyes. 

"Draco," he asked, "are you finally awake?"

Draco blinked, and then stirred himself from his resting position. He tried to talk, but only let out a groan. 

"Good," said Harry with a smile. "I can never tell, you know. You kinda sleep with your eyes half open. Like a cat."

Draco sat up, then, and stretched. "Do you always watch me sleep?" he asked teasingly. He tried to rub the sleep dust from his eyes, but there was too much and it hurt a little.

"No," Harry repled, sitting up and wrapping his blankets around himself. "You're always awake before I am."

Draco paused, realizing fully that Harry was, in fact, on the floor. Usually, when he stayed over, Draco was on the floor. That was why he usually woke up first. Or, at school, it was because of his impeccable internal clock.

"Why am I in your bed?" he asked, staring at Harry in confusion. 

Harry shrugged. "You were tired and sad, and I wanted you to rest. My bed's not as big as yours, and we're bigger now, so we can't really share anymore. Feeling better, though?" He got up and sat next to Draco on the bed. 

Then Draco remembered last night and how he had been so confused and how he had cried. That was why his eyes were so sticky with sleep, then. He cringed as he remembered all the unanswered questions from the night before.

"Harry, what do you know about what my parents did?" 

Harry shook his head. "I don't know, Draco," he muttered. "Ask them. We should go down to breakfast." He got up and went to leave the room, avoiding having to respond.  

Draco grudgingly followed after him.

Breakfast was not pleasant. Instead of cheery talk about the holidays or even having his questions asked, Padfoot and Moony lectured them about how they needed to forget about the fourth floor, to not go back. 

They still were allowed to keep an eye on Quirrel, though. 

* * *

Two days after his visit with Harry, Draco was sitting with Mother in the sun room. They were reading legends about the elves of old, the ones that existed before the house elves of their day. 

After pleasantly discussing theories of their existence and explanations for their supposed disappearance, Draco had decided to ask Mother about her and Father's role in the war. Were they really war heroes? Or had they been bad, like Hermione had suggested, like Padfoot and Moony had said?

He decided to ask Mother, despite the fact she had been a little touchy lately. She was much less likely to get upset over a politics-related question than father was.

And, besides, he went to Mother every time he had a question. 

"Mother, I'm bored with elves." He set down his book and looked at her intently. 

"Why, darling? It's so interesting." She glanced up at him from her book. 

"I have an important question," he told her, scooting towards her and giving her a pleading expression. 

She froze, her long nails clenching the book. "Whatever about?" She slowly closed the book and turned to look at him, worry swimming in her eyes. 

"Well," he began, feeling at a slight loss for words, "it's about some things people have said to me. Called me."

"Said to you, Dragon? Are you being treated well at school?" Her voice grew soft, and she placed a hand on his cheek. 

"Fine, Mother," he assured her, trembling a little as he thought of the implications of what he was about to ask. "It's just, well..." He trailed off, to nervous to continue.

"Yes, Draco?" Mother took his hand in hers. "You can ask me anything."

He let out a long exhale. "What did you and Father do in the War?" His voice came out fast, a breathy rush, the thoughts all too willing to escape his tongue.

"Oh, darling," Mother whispered, her body going stiff. "What did they tell you?"

Draco grimaced. "They called us traitors, Mother. Did we... Did we betray the good side? Is that why some of the Slytherins hate me?" He felt the tears beginning to prick at his eyes again. 

She scooped him up into a hug, her lips pressing into the hair she had thankfully not tried to plaster into a shell on his scalp again. He tried his best not to cry. Not until he knew more. 

"Your father was a Death Eater," she whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse. 

"A Death Eater?" He had never heard Mother or Father say the word. It was something whispered in the crowds of Hogwarts, or a ghost of a phrase he had heard muttered by Padfoot or Moony. 

"Yes. He served the Dark Lord." Mother cradled him close, partially for her own benefit. "But he turned against him and stood up for Harry's family's side in the end. Most people seem to forget that."

Draco sighed. He already _knew_ that part. It was a bedtime story, the part of the story that even Padfoot could tell him. Probably because Padfoot had been saved because of it. 

"I know. But tell me the part other people know. What did you and Father do?"

Mother pulled away and had Draco sit up. She held him at arms length, emotion swimming in her eyes that Draco could barely recognize.

"You're two young to know the whole of it." Her voice went slightly harder, but she looked grievous. "We were weak then, darling. You must know that. We were looking for someone else's power to redeem us, but in reality we were only driving ourselves deeper towards the edge."

She shuddered, a sob wracking her body. 

"Your Father took the Mark. He was very close to You-Know-Who, the man who killed Harry's parents. He did horrible, horrible things, and I let him... Oh, Draco, we were so scared..."

Draco barely understood a word she said, too young to comprehend the woes of a damaged soul. He couldn't even ask for clarification, because someone at the doorframe cleared their throat. 

"I hadn't realized we had agreed to tell him this," Father said, his voice low but not angry. 

Draco spun to face him, inexplicable fear clenching his heart. "I asked her," he told him urgently. "It's not her fault."

Father left and walked into the room. He took Draco's spare hand and pulled him away from his seat with Mother. Standing now, Draco gaped up at his father, seeing him in a new light. 

Father smiled wryly, his teeth glinting. "A few stories, and you already fear your father?" His voice sounded worrysome, remorseful. "I would never lay a hand on you, Draco. Or on anyone else. Not for the past ten years."

Draco just blinked up at him, his hand trembling in his father's. He wondered what evil that hand had done...

Tears began to slide down his face as he realized that the man he looked up to most had been bad. Had helped the monster that killed Harry's parents. 

And then tried to make it better by keeping it a secret, by covering it up with pretty stories of redemption. 

It was like trying to cover a pile of shit with rose petals. 

Draco pulled away and ran from the room, unsure of what to do with himself. 

* * *

Draco hid in his bedroom, curling his blankets close to him. One of their house elves, Dobby, had dropped by to give him food, but his parents left him alone. 

He tried to fire call Harry a few times, but he was rubbish with the floo. He needed Father's help with it, and he wasn't ready to ask just yet. 

He sat alone, a greasy, black feeling churning in his stomach. Fear, disgust, denial. His thoughts were clouded and he had a headache. He felt dismal.

He had been there six hours when there was a knock on the door. 

"Go away!" he cried, throwing his pillow at the door. He was acting like a child, he knew, but Mother's words were still swimming around in his head. He was finally beginning to piece together everything he knew. Everything about the war, about good and evil...

His parents had been evil. 

"Draco, it's Moony." The voice through the door was soft and soothing, and all the better, it was clearly not his parents. "May I come in?"

Draco sniffed and nodded. "Yes."

"I've brought Snuffles," he added before entering. 

The door creaked open, and Moony slipped in, the big black dog following in after him. Draco had seen it many times when he was at Harry's house. He was a friendly thing, though Draco could hardly believe his parents had let any animal in the house. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked Moony. Privately, he wondered if Harry was with him. He could use a hug from him.

But this was clearly an adult talk. Snuffles jumped onto the bed and settled a big, soft head on Draco's lap. He looked up at him with wide, knowing eyes, and he stroked behind the ears. It made him feel better. 

Moony sat down next to him. "Are you still worried that you're bad?" 

Draco frowned. "I don't know." He slumped over and hugged Snuffles, comforted by his warmth and solidity. "But Mother and Father are bad, aren't they? They're monsters."

"Don't call people monsters, Draco." Moony's voice was sharp and scolding, but still non-threatening. "Would you say that I'm a monster?"

"No," Draco answered, petting the dog and frowning. 

"But I'm a werewolf," Moony countered cooly. "Most people would call that a monster."

"But you haven't hurt anyone." He paused, and thought that before today, he hadn't thought Father had hurt anyone. "Have you?" he asked tentatively. 

Moony smiled gently, and the dog let out a tiny grumbling sound. 

"I fought in the War, Draco," Moony reminded him. "I hurt people who I knew would hurt me and the people and things I loved."

Draco felt that greasy feeling returned. Betrayed again. But he thought about it. What if someone wanted to hurt Harry? Or Hermione even? He would want to defend them. 

"But that's okay," Draco answered. "You did it for good." He sat up again, and the dog crawled further onto Draco's lap. He felt soothed, but also trapped. 

"And your parents fought for the same reason." He spoke with a sure expression on his face, as if he just knew how logical he sounded. "They wanted to protect what they cared about, which was you. It just took them a little longer to realize that you would be better off on the other side. The side I fought on, which they now support."

"But didn't they help the man who tried to kill Harry?" Draco had a one track mind, and he wasn't quite convinced yet. "Didn't they hurt lots of people?"

Moony closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and the dog seemed to sigh. Draco scratched it along its neck and back, comforted by its presence.   

"People change, Draco," Moony told him, his voice slightly strained with some hidden grief. "You know that your parents love you, you know that they're good now. Can you accept that, and forgive them?" 

Draco frowned. "Has everyone else?" he asked, tilting his head. "Do other people think we're good now?" He said 'we' because he had realized he would probably always be affected by his parents' legacy.

"No," Moony answered, a little reluctantly. "But that's because some people can't let go. Even Padfoot and I have trouble sometimes." He straightened his spine and looked Draco in the eye. "Please," he pleaded, "let me explain the whole story."

And so, Moony told him about the war. He spoke of it like it was a war of desires and personal interest instead of a war of morals against morals, something Draco couldn't quite understand. He still saw all things as black and white, good versus evil. 

And that was why he was in so much turmoil. He had grown up influenced by "good", which was the winning side, and had thought that he was good. But then, he had discovered that he was actually part of the "bad".

But what Moony was saying was that it wasn't so simple, that it wasn't so black and white. His world didn't have to feel like it had been turned upside down, because it hadn't. Not really. 

His parents might have been murderers, but he reminded him that all people had that in them. It was people, like his parents, who had the guts to overcome it that were brave. 

By the end, Draco had stopped crying. He was tired, though. So tired. He ended up lying down at the end, closing his eyes and signifying that he heard enough. 

Moony had chuckled quietly, and got up to leave the room. The dog followed. In a moment, they were gone. 

Then, he heard Padfoot's voice behind the door, as well as Moony's.

"He's only eleven," Padfoot said, exhaustion making his voice low. "I'm so sorry he has to deal with this."

"I know," Moony agreed. "But it says a lot about what kind of kid he is to care so much about morals. It's good to know he's, well, _good_ on the inside." 

Padfoot grunted. "We should bring in Harry," he suggested. "And then we need to go talk to Lucius and Narcissa."

Draco heaved a sigh and hugged a pillow against him like he had done to the dog. He briefly wondered where Padfoot had come from, but he needn't worry himself about those things. 

A moment later, Harry surged into his room and enveloped him in a hug, completely ignoring the dog hair covering both Draco and his bed.

"I'm sorry you're so sad and scared," Harry whispered, "but you can be okay now. Your parents are fine, you're fine." His arms were slung around Draco's shoulder and he was rocking back and forth. 

Draco leaned his weight into Harry. "I want to go back to school," he confessed, tired and weary. "I wish Christmas were over already."

"Well, tomorrow's Christmas Eve," Harry reminded him, "so your wish will come soon enough."

Draco nodded. "What time is it? I think I want to go to sleep." He yawned and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Then sleep," Harry ordered, moving away slowly. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Draco didn't want Harry to go. He wasn't ready to be alone again after all those hours he had spent in his room that day. 

"Can't you spend the night?" Draco asked him quietly. 

Harry stared at him for a moment, contemplating.

"I'd like that," he said at last. He crawled back closer to Draco. "Your bed is cozier than mine."

Draco smiled and laid down. He thought it was cozier because he got to share.

* * *

Harry and his family stayed for Christmas eve, to Draco's relief. Mother had the house elves prepare a magnificent feast, which he thought was much fancier than Harry's family usually had. 

Mother and Father were very friendly with Padfoot and Moony. As they had said, they had clearly become friends since Draco and Harry had left for Hogwarts. 

Draco merely poked at his food, and Harry would occasionally whisper assurances to him. The helped. Draco wasn't feeling so dreadful anymore, he really wasn't. 

But every time he looked at his Father, he still wondered what he had been capable of. A cringe of uneasiness would pass through him, and then he would stare at his plate. 

After dinner, Harry, Padfoot, and Moony grudgingly left. Mother went to bed early, complaining of a headache. 

Father sat at the table quietly, his head hung low. Draco watched him carefully, dangling his legs from the chair anxiously. He knew he couldn't leave. He would have to talk to Father. 

He didn't leave him waiting long. He looked up at Draco with gray eyes so similar to his own. They were heavy and dull with worry and grief. 

"Who called you traitor?" he interrogated, his voice low and sure. 

Draco swallowed and met his gaze. "Parkinson was the first. Then Crabbe and Goyle. A lot of the older students. Theo might have, too, but Blaise says he doesn't mind me." He felt shaky, telling his father all that.

Father merely smiled at him. "You do know that those are all Death Eater families, don't you? I'm a traitor only to the Dark." He stood up and went towards Draco's spot at the table. "Walk with me, son."

Draco blinked, but stood up all the same. Father took his limp hand in his one strong one and led him out of the dining room and into one of the corridors. Draco did not resist. 

"Does anyone else give you trouble for your family name?" Father spoke softly. He sounded curious more than anything. 

"Not particularly," Draco admitted. "People stare, but I am with Harry a lot. And some people have mentioned that--that you did things in the war. But nothing specific." He did his best to keep himself from trembling, keeping up with his father's long, slow stride.

"And do people bother Harry for being in Slytherin?" He asked, leading Draco up a staircase and past a portrait of a sleeping ancestor. "Do they think he's any less of the Boy Who Lived?"

Draco frowned. "I don't think so," he replied. "The Ravenclaws like us well enough. The others leave us well alone." He paused to think for a moment. "I don't think there's much besides the staring. Otherwise, we're left alone and treated normally."

Father chuckled. "After all, you still are just boys alike everyone else at your school. Aren't you?"

Draco nodded in agreement. He and Harry hadn't done anything extraordinary to gain them much attention. They were just first years. 

"Yes." He squeezed Father's hand, feeling slightly more comfortable now. "You want me to realize that no one thinks as poorly of me as I do, don't you?" He wasn't stupid, and the conversation wasn't that far off from the one he had with Moony. 

"Clevee boy," Father commended him. "I'm glad I needn't worry about that. But are you angry with me? For hiding this from you?" He spoke more firmly now, sounding more normal. He had stopped acting as though Draco were a wounded animal. Or a small child. 

"Of course I am," he snapped, a little bitterly. "But I'm feeling better. I'm sorry for acting like a baby."

Father chuckled. "You are still young, so it's acceptable. But you _are_ a Malfoy, so I'm grateful you kept your emotions at home instead of having a public outburst." He shook his head. "What am I even saying? One would have thought I might have decided how little that mattered."

Draco stopped walking and stared up at his father. He had never thought he would hear Father say something so belittling of the family values. But clearly, his opinions hadn't changed; he just thought they should.

He shrugged and smirked up at him. "Well, you _are_ a Malfoy." And Malfoys were stubborn.

Father let out a louder-than-normal laugh, and crouched down so he was at eye level with Draco. 

"I do regret being a Death Eater." The light in his eyes was seeping back in, but his voice was swathed with emotion. "Your Mother and I were so unhappy then, so afraid. Helping Dumbledore was a hard decision, but I regret nothing about that." He swallowed and looked away, a single tear sliding down his face. "I've become a better person. I feel younger and freer than I ever could have before. And I daresay it gave you a happy childhood, did it not? It pains me so to see you so sorrowed." He looked back at Draco, and pulled him into a short embrace, and then stood straight again. 

"I am happy," Draco promised him. "More so than if you had stayed a Death Eater, I think. Judging by how I've reacted so far." He laughef wryly and looked at the floor. 

"I'm proud of how you've grown, Draco," Father told him. "You've handled this well. You have... You have a good heart. Better than my own, I'm afraid." There was the slightest hint of shame in his face. Enough for Draco to see, enough for him to know it was real. 

"You were the one who raised me," Draco pointed out. 

"More your mother than I, with all my Ministry work," Father replied. He now spoke as if he had forgotten Draco was only a child. He enjoyed it, hearing Father speak fully with him. "And Sirius and Remus seemed to have polished the edges we couldn't reach. I am not without my flaws, I'm afraid."

Draco wondered why Father was admitting this. He probably hadn't gotten much chance to talk about this. 

Father cleared his throat. "I digress. Dumbledore would be much more interested to hear this than you." He took Draco by the hand again, and they kept walking. 

"Thank you," Draco said, "for talking to me honestly. I know you care now." He swung their hands back and forth in an attempt to show some cheer. 

"I always have cared for you, son," he answered softly. "But now that you're older, it's much easier to talk with you. I look forward to seeing what you become."

Draco smiled fully at that. He loved praise, of course he did, and it was even better when it came from Father. He felt a small ball of warmth glow in his chest, replacing the grimy soup of betrayal that had begun to take residence in his gut.

"What do you think about taking the floo to Diagon Alley on Boxing Day?" Father sounded much, much happier. "Just you and I. You loved it when you were smaller."

"I would still love that, Father."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is going to be a series, I was thinking of renaming this. "The House Wins" was supposed to represent Harry's Slytherin side changing the course of his life, but its clearly more Draco-centric now. Besides, it's too ambiguous of a name, especially for a series. 
> 
> I'm completely open to suggestions, but in the meantime, I'll keep brain storming.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is kind of possessive. And he has a talk with Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I just deleted half of this chapter!!! I spent hours on that. Pity.

The rest of Christmas vacation was pleasant, save for a few nightmares. Father and Mother seemed more respectful now, and more open. Draco cherished it; it made him feel much better. 

All the same, he was profoundly grateful to return to the bustle of life at Hogwarts. He missed his classes, his friends, and the Slytherin common room. He didn't care if it had only been a week. 

He got right back into the swing of things. Potions class resumed as if they had never left, immediately beginning with assigning a huge essay on brewing basics. He worked with Blaise on that, and Harry still partnered (resignedly) with Theo.

At the end of that first Potions class, Snape pulled Draco aside. 

Harry waited at the door. "You coming, Draco?" he asked hesitantly, watching Snape warily. 

Snape raised his eyebrows. "I will be having a word with you later, Potter. For now, I just want to speak with Draco," he drawled, waving Harry away with a dismissing hand. 

Harry gaped for a moment, and then he ran away, chasing after Theo and Blaise. Draco watched him leave, a flutter of apprehension and worry entering him. 

"Yes, Professor Snape?" he inquired, staring up at him with wide eyes. He wondered what he had done to warrant his attention--good or bad. 

"Come to my office," the Professor ordered, turning away. His robes whooshed after him, and Draco followed him for the short walk there. 

Snape's office was tidy and elegant. It was not fancy or ordinate like Father's; it was simple. The desk was dark wood, and the walls were mostly dominated by shelves filled with books and potions ingredients. A pencil sketch of a tree hung in the back of the room.

"Sit," Snape ordered, taking his own seat behind the desk. 

Draco sat in a large black armchair. It was surprisingly cozy; he would have thought Snape would have supplied less comfortable things to students. 

"Am I in trouble, sir?" Draco asked, staring at Snape intently. 

"Not at all." He spoke cooly, if not slightly stiffly. "As your Head of House, it's my job to look after your emotional well being."

"Sir?" Draco shifted in his seat. He thought he knew where this was going. 

"Your mother wrote me a letter," Snape explained, "saying you were rather distressed about learning of your parents' history with the Death Eaters."

"I've heard quite enough of it, thanks," Draco murmured, willing himself not to get emotional in front of Snape. He crossed his arms and stared at the back of Snape's desk. "I'd rather not have this discussion again."

"Not an option," Snape answered immediately, staring at him with such an intense gaze that Draco was forced to look up. "I'll try and keep it short."

"Thanks," Draco huffed sourly in response. 

Snape nodded curtly, ignoring his tone. "I would just like to inform you, Draco, that I was also a Death Eater." He lifted up his left sleeve to reveal a tattoo--a black skull with a green snake coming out of its mouth. 

Draco shuddered. "Does Father have one of those?" He had never seen Father without long sleeves, so he supposed he had no way of knowing. 

He didn't bother ask his other question, which was if Snape were still Dark or not. He supposed he wouldn't be if he were teaching at Hogwarts, if Dumbledore trusted him. He wondered if Snape had a contract, too... 

"As did every Servant of the Dark Lord." Snape looked down at his own forearm, and his lips twisted into a scowl. He quickly covered the Mark and folded his hands on the desk. "But the point is, Draco, that I was still on the Light side. I was Dumbledore's spy, you see. But your Father managed to attain information that I could not without the Dark Lord's complete trust, and with our combined testemonies, there were many Death Eaters who were apprehended that might not have been otherwise."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Like who?" He wondered how many Death Eater families were in his House. 

"Like Peter Pettigrew." Draco knew that name; he was the man who tried to frame Sirius. "Or Theodore Nott's father," Snape scowled and took a breath, "or Blaise Zabini's step father. In both cases, preventing the boys from living with some very abusive men."

Draco was surprised to hear that. From what he had heard of Blaise's mother, she wouldn't let any man control her enough to be abusive. But he was glad, at least, that they had avoided an abusive father. 

"But what about the rest? Did they arrest them all?" 

Snape frowned. "Not all. Parkinson, for example, only got a five year sentence. If it weren't for your Father's pensieve memories, he might have avoided it altogether." He shook his head, looking as though he wished Parkinson were imprisoned longer. 

Draco frowned, realizing that must have been why Parkinson hated so much. He had known Pansy when they were very small, but he then inferred that Mr. Parkinson had been in Azkaban at that time. And that he hadn't seen Pansy since her father got out of prison. Until Hogwarts. 

It made sense. He wondered about the others. 

"So, people don't like us because their fathers went to jail because of Father?" he asked. 

"Not all." Snape wrung his hands and looked Draco in the eye. "Some people are grateful for it. The older students might remember how horrible their parents were, or the younger might have been told by their mothers." He paused, and took out a piece of parchment and began scribbling down names. "If you're feeling out of place because others find you traitorous," he said, without looking up, "you should do your best to surround yourself with the people who don't."

"But I have Harry," Draco pointed out. 

"There is more to the world than _Harry Potter_ ," Snape growled. "And clearly, he is not enough. If you are insecure, you must surround yourself with people who make you feel good."

 _Harry makes me feel good,_ he thought, but then he felt his ears go red. 

He supposed he could have more than a few people who made him happy. 

Snape finished writing the list. "Here, I have composed a list of students from families you can trust. And that your parents will approve of, of course." He grimaced at the last bit, and Draco thought that perhaps it was because it was silly for his parents to have to approve of his friends. 

"How will I know who these people are?" Draco asked, taking the paper as Snape slid it to him. There were a dozen or so names, none of which he clearly recognized. 

Snape smiled slyly. "You'll find many people will start introducing themselves to you. Everyone has acclimated to the school again, and they've just visited their parents. For both political and social reasons, they'll want to know you." 

"Me?" 

"Perhaps more so Potter than yourself," Snape admitted with a sneer. "But you will benefit from those relations."

"Thank you, sir." He put the paper in his pocket. 

"That should be all, Draco. Thank you." Snape turned to look back at whatever he was reading. Just as Draco was beginning to leave, he cleared his throat. 

"What, Professor?"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Your mother tells me you saw something dreadful in your detention a while back. Care to share what?"

Draco was immediately brought back to the night in the forest. The dead unicorn. He shivered. 

"There was some cloaked person, or monster," he explained, and for some reason tears were pricking his eues as he spoke. "It had killed a unicorn, and it was drinking its blood." 

Snape's eyes widened and he visibly paled. "Was there anything else?" He asked, running a hand through his hair.

"No, sir," Draco answered. "Does it mean anything?"

Snape nodded, looking shaky. "It does, but that's nothing for to worry about." He stared at his desk for a long moment, and then said, "I almost forgot. I must remind you not to revisit the fourth floor, under _any_ circumstance." 

"I know," Draco groaned, "Harry's dads told me the same thing."

"Good." Snape still seemed to scowl at the mention of Harry's parents. "And when you see Potter, tell him to come meet me here, in my office, after dinner."

"Yes, sir," Draco answered.

He left feeling rather positive. He thought he could trust Snape. It was njce to have finally met him without Harry putting him in a sinister mood. 

* * *

The first weekend after returning to Hogwarts, Harry and Draco decided to go for a walk to the Lake. 

It was a sunny morning, and surprisingly warm for early January, so they didn't want to spend it indoors, exploring the castle. There hadn't been any Quidditch games going on, and Blaise and Theo were studying, of all things. 

Harry and Draco chatted about classes and their professors. There was a brief mention of their respective visits with Snape, but no more than that. Harry seemed rather resigned about it. 

"Did he say anything particular?" Draco asked, hoping Harry wouldn't mind the question. 

Harry put his hands in the air and made quotation marks with his fingers. "Don't go near the Fourth Floor, Potter. Just because you fancy yourself a hero doesn't mean you can break the rules," he drawled, doing his best to mimick Snape's tone. 

Draco snickered. It wasn't that bad, though it was definitely rude. 

"He's not so terrible," he said, trying to bite back his laughter as Harry continued his impression, his statements growing more and more ridiculous. 

"And I daresay, Potter, that you are a bitse sized piece of flobberworm! You are not worth my time, you child of mine enemies!" The impression was getting off as he spoke in more and more ridiculous tones. 

"You're not funny!" Draco protested through a giggle, though it was a lie. Harry was very funny, and his laughter was a testament to it. 

Harry grinned, but stopped. Still in his Snape voice, he said, "Fine, I shall cease my vocal display."

Draco let out a sigh of relief. "Good, Potter. I was starting to worry I'd never see the professor the same way again." He shook his head. "I don't want to one day burst out laughing in the middle of Potions class..."

Harry smirked. "I can't believe you would see him any differently. That impression was spot on!"

"Don't be full of yourself, Potter," he replied good naturedly. "I'm not some daft Gryffindor who will laugh at all your jokes!"

That last bit was admittedly a bit accusatory. After his meeting with Snape, he had found Harry in the Great Hall surrounded by Gryffindors. He had their full attention, and they seemed in awe of him. 

And the worst part was that Harry seemed happy with them. He seemed in place with them, almost, and Draco had begun to worry if maybe Harry should have been in Gryffindor. Slytherin fraternity be damned, he seemed to fit in there. After all, Harry hadn't killed any of their parents' bosses, which was not somethine he could say for the Slytherins. 

But then Draco had walked over, and Harry beamed at him with that bright smile, and he had gotten up and left the Gryffindors without a second thought. 

For Draco. 

"Oh, come on," Harry complained, "you're not still bitter about that, are you?"

Draco shrugged. "No," he lied. "But I couldn't help but notice how well you all got on with each other." That was an understatement. 

Harry took Draco's arm as they walked along the rocky shore of the lake. "Well, they weren't that great, to be honest." Harry kicked at a stone with his foot. "They just sat and listened. Not much for conversation, those Gryffindors."

"That's because they're all numbskulls," Draco cut in with a smirk. 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes," he agreed with a wry chuckle. "I like Slytherin, you know. No one gives a hippogriff tooth that I'm Harry Potter, which is what my dads always wanted. The Gryffindors don't act like that." 

Draco noticed the subtle use of the word "dads." Harry had been using it more and more instead of just "Padfoot and Moony."

"Yet," Draco murmured. "They're ignoring you now. But say Parkinsom, or the Carrows even... What if they decide to hurt you?" He had been thinking about that a lot after his meeting with Snape. 

There were people he could trust and people he couldn't. 

"I'll go to a teacher. Snape, even," Harry replied. "I'm not going to worry about it."

Draco snorted, thinking Harry was being terribly shortsighted. But he wasn't going to argue, he decided. 

"What were you telling them about?" He inquired. Harry had plenty of good stories, but how many of them would impress Gryffindors?

Harry beamed a bright smile at him and unlinked their arms. 

"You," he said simply. 

Draco blinked, more than slightly confused. 

"Me?" He demanded, worrying they had been bad stories. 

Harry smiled still, completely unphased. "About what a wonderful friend you are. Lots of jealous Gryffindors out there now."

"Jealous of me?" 

He blushed, feeling rather self-satisfied. He hoped that Harry was being honest--which he always was, wasn't he?--so that he didn't need to feel so jealous himself. 

"Jealous of me, more like," Harry clarified. "I'm the one who's got you as a friend, after all."

Draco grinned to the tips of his ears, and then challenged Harry to a race, because what else was he supposed to do when he felt so happy?

They had run back and forth between their marks on the ground four times when all of a sudden, Harry clambered to a stop. 

Draco kept on running, running. "Tired, Potter?" He laughed over his shoulder. "I win!" He crossed the line, but Harry wasn't paying attention.

"Draco, look!" he cried. "The squid!"

Draco spun around, and he was graced with the vision of a long, pointy, bright orange sea monster lounging and basking in the sun. He let out an elated laugh and ran over to Harry's spot.

Harry slung an arm around his shoulder, and Draco followed suit. The squid lifted a tentacle into the air and slapped it down on the water, sending waves rippling to shore.

Draco grinned. "It's a good omen."

"Of course it is," Harry agreed, then, he ripped away from Draco and started running away towards the other line in the rocks. "And it means I'm winning this race!"

"No you're not, you cheater!" 

It was one of his best days, Draco reasoned, seeing the squid and winning and running along the lake with his _best friend_ , who was not ashamed of him in the slightest. 

And, not to be possessive, but he was mostly ecstatic that Harry was _his_ best friend. 

Not any Gryffindor's. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait like 4 more days to post this but I'm impatient. Me. The author. I'm the impatient one. Even when I know what's going on, and I even write ahead.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds the mirror of Esired. In this universe, he doesn't crave a family, and he has what he wants in life.  
> Well, all except one thing, apparently.

Draco was fast asleep. 

Harry, however, was not. He was awake and his mind was reeling. It was one of those nights when he knew he wouldn't be sleeping. 

He cast a guilty glance at his snoring friend, knowing that he wouldn't want Harry to do it alone. 

But this wasn't the first time he had snuck out to explore without Draco. He would have invited him, but he didn't want him getting in trouble. It was so much easier to slip into an empty classroom unnoticed when it was just him. And besides, Draco didn't want to, anyway. He had made that clear, he thought.  

But Harry couldn't just _stop_ his night time explorations. He was a Marauder's son by all rights--technically, he was son of three of the Marauders, so that had to justify it. 

He slipped out of bed and looked at Draco, sleeping peacefully, for one lingering moment. And then he was tiptoeing into the common room, away from the other Slytherins. 

A sixth year was passed out on one of the couches. The lake looked dark and menacing out the window. Everything was silent, though. 

Harry made his way out of the dorm, into the silent hallways. He was lucky enough that Filch and his cat were nowhere to be found. 

Last time he has been exploring, he had stumbled across some interesting rooms. He wasn't following his scar, of course, but his gut (maybe his inner Marauder) served him well enough. And it kept him clear from any teachers.

Tonight was no different. He found a new pathway, and made his way up a different staircase. It felt eerily similar to how he had found the fourth floor with Draco, but he didn't reach it.

He was startled by a clattering sound, and then the yowling of Mrs. Norris. There was a wild cackling, and Harry realized that Peeves was loose. 

Panicking, he ducked into the nearest room and locked the door as best as he could. It was with a grace and silence he wouldn't have managed with Draco there, loath as he was to admit it. 

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He couldn't hear any more noise in the hallway. He was clear. 

How terrible would it be to get detention, just to have to tell Draco that he kept sneaking out behind his back?

He let out a breath and opened his eyes. 

He was in an empty room, but there was something heavy in the air that felt mystic. It made Harry's scar tingle, but not in a bad way. 

And then he realized the room was not completely empty. In the corner opposite to him was something tall, covered by a silvery sheet. 

His curiosity piqued, Harry moved away from the door and towards it, making sure the door was securely locked. He wasn't sure what could possibly be hidden in the room, or why, but he had come to accept that Hogwarts was full of wonderfully inexplicable things. 

And dangerous things, too, he supposed. Like the Fourth Floor. Part of him still wanted to go there, regardless of what his dads had said. Some (probably masochistic) part of him wanted to know. 

But for now was this room. 

He stood next to it and took the sheet in his hands, slick like silk, and pulled it from its spot. It slid off and fluttered to the ground. 

And Harry saw it was a mirror. Unease flickered in him as he recalled one of the rare pureblood traditional stories Padfoot had told him, the one that told of the bad luck that would come from uncovering a shrouded mirror. 

He cast any such worries aside when curiosity took over. He stepped to the front of it. 

Harry gasped when he saw his reflection, spinning around to make sure there was no one behind him or touching him. 

There wasn't. It was only in the mirror. 

He turned back around to gape at it, only slightly perturbed. What he saw in the mirror wasn't frightening, after all. 

In the mirror, there was himself. A little older and a little taller, but he was smiling brightly. Next to him was clearly Draco, also older. 

And they were holding hands. 

Harry felt his face go red, and he didn't even know why. He and Draco held hands sometimes.

But this was different. There was something in the way their hands were linked, and the look in their eyes as they kept stealing glances at each other. 

And Harry realized he wanted it.

He went even redder as the Draco in the mirror kissed the reflection Harry on the cheek, and he wondered if what they had in the mirror was what he thought it was. 

He knew he and Draco loved each other, but that was friendship love. What was in the mirror... Was it marriage love? Or something different?

And why did Harry suddenly want it?

He stared at the mirror for a long time, and the two familars in the mirror just kept on smiling and looking happy together. 

Something in Harry ached with the hope that this mirror told the future. 

* * *

In the following week, Harry returned to the mirror four times. It perplexed him, intrigued him. 

He wanted what he saw in that mirror, but he didn't know how or when or even why. He already had Draco, he was his best friend, he had gone into Slytherin for him... What more could he want?

That weekend, he decided he would take Draco to see the mirror. If Draco saw it too, maybe he would understand it better. 

When the rest of the dorm was in bed, Harry had done his best to keep Draco up by sitting on his bed and whisper-reading one of the story books he had gotten from home. 

"Harry," Draco whispered, trying to kick him off the bed, "this story reminds me of Mother. And I want to sleep."

"Is everyone else asleep?" Harry asked, setting down the book. 

Draco blinked sleepily. "Yes," he said. "Which means I should be, too. I don't give a hippogriff about 'The Warlock's Hairy Heart.'" He tried to pull his blankets over his head, but Harry stopped him. 

"Not yet," he pleaded, wanting desperately to show Draco the mirror. He didn't want to wait another night. "Can we go exploring tonight?" He didn't want to tell him that he had already gone without him. They would "find" the mirror on accident. 

Draco sat up from where he was lying down and trying to ignore Harry. He grinned lazily. "You missed it, didn't you?" He asked, giving Harry a little shove off the foot of the bed.

Harry turned red. He hadn't exactly missed it since he didn't stop.  

"Yes," he half-lied. "Besides, I can't sleep." Especially having gotten used to staying up so much later. 

Draco threw off his covers. "Well, I suppose we should then," he muttered. "It's not as though you'll let me say no." 

"You don't have to come," Harry said, a little uneasily. "But it would be nice."

"Even if I'm a complete kneazle about it and jump at everything?" Draco asked, sounding a little bitter. 

"You won't be," Harry assured him. "I'll protect you."

"My brave lion," Draco scoffed, pulling on his boots. 

"No, I'm your snake," Harry corrected him indignantly. "I'll slither us out of any trouble if it comes our way. Don't expect me to have a stand of with Filch."

Draco snorted as he pulled on his robes. "That's better, then."

Harry couldn't help but take his hand as they snuck out of the dorm. It wouldn't be the first time, after all, that they held hands. 

And if Harry trusted the mirror, it wouldn't be the last. 

He found his way back to the room with the mirror rather easily. He knew the route and followed it with complete certainty. 

About halfway there, Draco slowed down. "Following you scar, Potter?" he asked casually. He didn't seem so afraid this timr around. 

"What? No," Harry said, wondering what Draco could have meant. That joke had long since grown old. It had been months since Halloween. 

"Really? Because you seem to know where you're going."

Harry slowed, too. He hadn't thought to make it seem like he didn't. What was Draco thinking?

"No, I don't." Harry tugged Draco down into the next hall. "We're _exploring_." 

"Which is why we haven't stopped once." 

Oh, Merlin. Of course Draco was figuring it out. He wasn't stupid. Harry still had to try, though. 

"Fine," he grumbled, still not stopping. "The twins told me about a place," he lied. 

Draco let go of his hand and stopped. 

"Harry, don't lie to me." He crossed his arms. "I know you've been sneaking out without me." 

Harry couldn't tell if Draco was upset or not. But he still felt guilty. 

He grabbed him by the hand again and began pulling him along through the corridor. He didn't want them getting caught. 

"Fine," he whispered. "I've been exploring alone. But I wanted you with me. So just follow, please."

Draco smirked and took a few paces ahead. "I knew it," he said, going quickly now. "You missed going with me!" He giggled a little too loudly, but realized his mistake and covered his mouth with his spare hand.

Harry shook his head. He actually didn't miss Draco on these expeditions--he was too noisy--but he was too pleased with Draco's excitement to say anything. 

"Just come on," Harry urged him. "We're almost there."

"I heard you get up every time, I bet," Draco whispered, still following after. "And every time, I thought, he'll invite me when he want to. You were just worried about getting me in trouble." He sounded extremely satisfied. 

Harry smiled at him. That wasn't entirely false. He couldn't believe all that time, he had thought Draco didn't want to come.

And it was so much more fun with him, anyway.

"Well, we're lucky we haven't found anyone yet." He stopped and realized they were at the door. "Now, come on. Get in here." He cracked it open, and they slid in, no longer joined by their hands. 

The mirror was just as Harry had left it last time, still covered in the sheet. 

"What's in here, Harry?" Draco asked, spinning in a full circle to look around. "I kind of expected it to be more exciting than this." He stopped spinning, his gaze fixed on Harry. 

"Wait a second." Harry turned around and went for the mirror. He pulled of the sheet, eliciting a gasp from Draco. 

"Don't uncover mirrors, Harry," he whispered, taking a step back. 

Harry stared at him. "Hogwash. Come look in the mirror. It's magic, I think." He wanted to know what Draco saw. 

If they saw the same thing. 

And what that meant. 

Draco took a cautious step in front of the mirror, and when he saw it, he gasped. He stared at it, gaping, for a long moment. 

"What do you see?" Harry asked, stepping in next to him. He still saw the same thing in the mirror, him and Draco. He smiled at it. 

Draco narrowed his eyes and seemed to glower at the reflection. 

Harry's heart skipped a nervous beat. 

"This isn't real," Draco said, mostly to himself. He took a step back. "It's a lie."

Harry frowned and grabbed Draco's arm. "What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

Draco shook his head. "My mother...." He frowned and stared at the mirror a moment longer. "This mirror is lying. That would never happen."

"What?" Harry panicked, and he already felt tears pricking his eyes. What was Draco thinking? Was he seeing the same thing in the mirror? "What do you see?"

Draco looked torn between watching the mirror and running away. He shook his head again and took a step back. 

"My parents..." He trailed off, and Harry saw he was about to start crying. "That's not them. It never will be. I can't..." He closed his eyes.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief, and he thought he knew what was going on. He cast one last look at the mirror and took Draco by the arm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "We can go back."

Draco nodded stiffly. "But we can explore again later. Just not here."

They left the room, and Harry couldn't help but feel sorry. He hurried them back. 

"What did you see?" Draco asked him hesitantly as they were going down a flight of stairs. 

Harry turned bright red and smiled at him.

"I liked what I saw," he answered. "And I think you will, too." He hoped so.

"You mean I'll see it?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe, someday."

He hoped that was true. 

* * *

Draco wasn't coming with Harry that night. He wanted another look at the mirror, and he felt bad for turning Draco down. 

He seemed a little dejected, and even apologized for getting upset at the mirror.

"I won't do it again," he pleaded. "I'll be more fun next time."

But Harry promised him that wasn't it. He just had to see the mirror again. He knew it would be a long time until whatever was in the mirror was real.

It was silly, he knew, to leave Draco behind because of that. But just one more night, and then he would go properly exploring with him again. 

When he got to the room with the mirror, he realized he had forgotten to cover it back up before he left. He doubted anyone had noticed, though. 

He sat in front of the mirror, staring at the very happy looking him and Draco.

It was nice how happy Draco looked in that reflection. He had seen too much of him looking sad or concerned lately. 

But then there were moments when he seemed as happy as he did in that mirror, and Harry realized that maybe he needed to focus more on those. 

He smiled for a moment, closing his eyes as he imagined the other day in charms class when they both had finally figured out levitation charms, or the snowball fight they had against Gryffindor the other day. 

Draco had seemed so happy then. 

Harry smiled to himself and stared at the mirror a moment longer. Maybe it was a little silly to obsess over this mirror. 

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around, and saw Dumbledore entering the room. 

"Isn't it a little late for you to be out and about?" he asked as he sat down on the floor next to Harry.

"Professor," he stammered, "I'm sorry." He felt a little ashamed. 

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, and Harry realized that he, too, was staring at the mirror. 

"Do you know what this mirror is, Harry?" the headmaster inquired. 

"No, sir," he murmured. "Does it show the future?" Hope foolishly lit his voice, but he didn't care. He wanted it to. 

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, my boy. The art of the future is not so defined." He sighed wistfully, looking between Harry and the mirror. "It's called the Mirror of Esired. The mirror of desire. It shows what you desire most."

Harry frowned as realization dawned on him. No wonder he had kept coming back. 

But, then why had Draco been so upset by it?

"Many people have lost themselves to this mirror, Harry," Dumbledore warned him. "I don't want you being one of them."

Harry tore his eyes away from the mirror and looked up at Dumbledore, who looked so strangely humble, sitting on the floor with him. 

"I won't, sir," he promised. 

Dumbledore let out a long sigh. "I know it must be hard for you, Harry," he said, a consoling smile on his lips. "I know you must miss your parents."

Harry tilted his head. What was Dumbledore on about? He had just seen Padfoot and Moony. 

"Sir?"

"There's no reason to be ashamed, Harry." Dumbledore gestured at the mirror. "James ans Lily were wonderful people. Seeing them here must be tempting, but you must invest yourself in the here and now."

"I do, sir." Harry frowned. "And I don't see James and Lily. Why would I?"

Dumbledore blinked, seemingly taken aback. "Surely you want to know your parents? What else could you desire?"

Harry shrugged. "I know my parents--Moony and Padfoot. They're all I need. I'm grateful for James and Lily, but they didn't raise me." He winced at the Headmaster's hurt expression. "You've known me long enough to know that I'm happy with my dads."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Then, of not your family, what do you see?" 

Harry blushed and stared at his feet. He wasn't sure how okay it was to say. 

"Nothing that I can't have eventually," Harry replied evenly. "What do you see?"

Dumbledore smiled slyly. "Socks, Harry. I see myseld in a lovely pair of socks."

Harry glanced over at the Headmaster, and hecould see a glimpse of his socks, and they were brightly colored. Perhaps he was a collector.

"I suppose it's only fair if we both answer dishonestly," Harry said. "But your socks now are rather nice."

Dumbledore laughed and pulled up his robes an inch or two, revealing rainbow striped socks completely. 

"They are, aren't they?" He chuckled. "You're rather bright for your age, you know."

Harry beamed at him. "Thank Moony for that."

"Perhaps I shall..." Dumbledore stood up them, a concerned look crossing his aged face. "And, Harry, my boy, don't come looking for this Mirror again. It isn't healthy."

"I won't, Professor." Harry stood as well. "I guess I'll head back to the dungeons, now."

Dumbledore paused. "You are enjoying Slytherin?"

Harry gave his best winning grin. 

"It's all I could ever want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are the series names I've thought up, because I am in need of feedback and am terrible at names.
> 
> It Was Slytherin Fraternity (does not mean a giant slytherin frat party)
> 
> Out Like A Snake (sounded cooler in my head)
> 
> More Than Merely Dark (because this is mostly about Slytherins AND THEYRE NOT ALL EVIL)
> 
> Draco Malfoy And The Not-Gryffindor Who Lived (or something like that I kinda thought it was funny)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parkinson is a sad bully. Draco meets one of the people on Snape's trust list. The boys decide to walk down to Hagrid's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had a strange thought. Was Norbert/Norberta even in the movies?? Or just a book character?

It was Tuesday morning, and Harry was late to breakfast. 

Draco wasn't entirely surprised. Harry seemed to sleep a little later than him, anyway, but it's not like he had an excuse. 

Well, he sort of did. Their first period Defense class had been cancelled, so maybe Harry deserved a sleep-in. 

But it would have been nice for him to be there. Draco could have asked him what he was doing exploring without him. Or, perhaps better, they could make up conspiracy theories about what Quirrel was doing instead of teaching class. 

In a completely not-joking manner. 

That was a lie. They were first years, and they were either going to cry about Quirrel being evil, or they were going to joke about it. 

And Draco had suffered through enough of the former lately. 

He sighed as he took a bite of his porridge. He was going to think about that stupid mirror again, and his parents. If only he could just distract himself...

"What's the matter, Draco?" Blaise asked, scooting over to nudge Draco. "You look a little down. Missing Harry already?"

Draco scoffed and flicked a bit of porridge at his friend, who winced and crossed his arms. 

"Just thinking," Draco replied, going for a swig of pumpkin juice. "Can you, I don't know, talk about your mum?" He needed something to distract himself, and Blaise was always pleased to boast about his mother. 

"Did he tell you about the company she just started?" Theo asked, speaking up at last. He had been nibbling at his bacon and not talking much, as usual. He seemed to keep to himself most of the time. 

Blaise grinned. "She started it all by herself. Something about music. My mum's very smart." He took a bite of his toast, which he always topped with fried eggs and mulberry jam, which Draco found more than strange.

"I know," Draco said. Blaise could go on about how independent she was, and he was willing him to do so now. Anything to keep him from thinking awful thoughts about his own parents. They were fine, he shouldn't complain--

Blaise interrupted his thoughts, thank Salazar. "Mum's always telling me how she wouldn't be where she was now if her Ex husband hadn't gone to Azkaban." He seemed to be deliberately avoiding the phrase 'my father' as usual. "She said he wouldn't let her do much, and he was really controlling. She didn't like being controlled."

Draco smiled to himself. Remembering what Snape said, he thought about how his father had helped with the man's arrest. That was comforting, at least. 

"So, after that, she got rid of every other husband who bugged her!" Parkinson piped in, stepping in behind Blaise and sneering. "Killed every last one of them, that's what Father says. Swindled them of their money, and of their lives." Her gaze swept around the table, glaring at Blaise, Draco, and Theo. 

"Go away, Parkinson," Draco growled, noting in concern that Blaise was sheepishly ducking his head. 

"What's got you so sour, anyway?" Theo demanded. "You weren't so snide when you needed help with Charms the other day." He crossed his arms and sneered right back at her. 

"I don't nees your help anyway!" Parkinson huffed, narrowing her eyes at him. "Besides, your mother is no better! I hear she gets by only by sleeping with every man in the Ministry." 

Theo set his jaw. "That's not true," he insisted, his voice low and nervous.

Draco was getting confused, only half-knowing what they were talking about, but he didn't want to ask questions. 

"Mum says she's a _whore_ ," Parkinson continued. "Still wears Nott's ring, too."

Blaise stood up in protest. "Well, my mum says that whore is a dirty word! A woman can do what she wants with her body!" He said it like it was something his mother had taught him, a mantra almost. 

"It's not _honorable_ , Zabini." Parkinson's lip curled. "It's not faithful. Her husband is perfectly honorable, waiting in Azkaban until--" She broke off, as if realizing what she was about to say was not proper in public. 

Draco turned to face her. "What would you know about honor, Parkinson?" he snarled. 

"You're one to talk, traitor." She looked as though she had been waiting to say this for a long time, slowing her speech with relish. "Daddy says that your father is a slimy coward, switching sides at the last minute."

Draco's head reeled. Switching sides was the one good thing his father had done in the war, and he had to protect that. 

He stood up, joining Blaise, who was still staring Parkinson down in determination.  

"At least my father didn't have to lie to avoid Azkaban," Draco said stiffly. "He repented."

Parkinson looked intimdated now, being stared down by two boys. Yes, she was taller than them, but her plan was starting to look silly. 

"You're a slimy coward, just like he is," Pansy whispered, looking desperate. "You can't do anything without Potter, your little lion." She smirked now, looking as though she thought she had won. 

And, in a way, perhaps she had. Draco returned the smirk as he saw Harry walking up behind her. 

"Is that why you came when he was gone?" Draco asked, moving towards her. "Are you afraid of Harry?" He spoke loudly and made eye contact with Harry over Parkinsons' shoulder. 

"I'm not afraid of some Gryffindor--"

She jumped as Harry tapped her on the shoulder, yelping as she nearly stumbled into Draco. She was quick to steady herself and look at Harry like he was a rotting fish. 

"You're a bully, Parkinson," he told her curtly.

"Filthy half blood," Parkinson murmured in response, stalking away and knowing when she had lost. 

"What did I miss?" Harry asked when she was gone, moving closer to Draco and a still-offput Blaise. Theo was angrily stabbing at the meat on his plate. 

"Parkinson trying to shame our families." Blaise shook his head and sat back down. "Not the first time."

Draco and Harry were about to sit down, too, but they were interrupted by a concerned looking older student. 

"Is everything alright over here?" he asked, fixing his collar. Draco noticed there was the Ravenclaw crest on his robe.

"Yeah," both Draco and Harry said, exchanging a glance. 

"You sure?" The student looked at them curiously. "I heard some particularly nasty insults, for some first years." 

"Why do you care?" Draco demanded. He hated being doted on like a child. Especially by other students. 

The older boy shrugged. "Your prefect wasn't doing anything." He looked around and then fixed his gaze back on Draco. "Probably because he agreed with the girl. You're a Malfoy, aren't you?"

Draco felt his ears go hot, wondering why Harry hadn't been addressed first. That's how it usually went. 

"That's me," he choked. "Draco Malfoy."

The boy smiled. "I'm Darren Pratt. Ravenclaw Prefect. Our fathers work together." He offered a hand, and Draco shook it. He frowned, thinking the name was familiar.

"And you're Harry Potter," Pratt continued, offering his hand to him as well.

"Hi," Harry said awkwardly, shaking it hesitantly. "And thanks for checking on us."

"Not a problem." Pratt flashed a winning smile. "And if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Prefect's duty and all." He waved at them and walked away to return to his table. 

Both Draco and Harry turned to face each other, each one blushing.

"What was that about?" Harry asked quietly, taking a seat. 

Draco shrugged, still feeling somewhat embarrassed from the encounter. "Snape warned me about this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the list that Snape had given him. 

Harry peered at it from over his shoulder. "Why do you have a list of names?"

Draco ignored him, staring at the page. "Snape gave it to me," he said absently. He saw that _Darren Pratt_ was on the list. "But it looks like we can trust him." Peculiarly, he noticed that the ink the name was written in had turned blue.

"Snape gave that to you?" Harry repeated, looking uneasy. "You trust it?"

Draco stuffed it back into his pocket. "Of course I do," he murmured. "But you know what I don't trust? Quirrel. Missing."

Theo snorted from across the table. "Paranoid flobberworms, you two are."

Blaise cackled in agreement. "Come on, Nott. Let's leave them be. I want to come up with a way to get back at Parkinson."

"Do what you want!" Harry called after them, turning to spread strawberry jam on his toast. "But I agree, Draco. Quirrel's up to something."

"You sure he just doesn't have a cold?" Theo asked as he stood up. "He's always got that turban on. Maybe he needs it 'cause he's cold and gets sick easy." 

Draco shook his head. "My mother says that garlic keeps away colds. Considering how he smells, I bet he's never had a cold before." His retort was lost, though, because Blaise and Theo had already left. 

"Creepy, he is," Harry muttered, biting into his food. "I reckon we should write Padfoot and Moony about it."

"Not that Dumbledore doesn't already know," Draco countered, watching Harry as he ate. He had already finished his own breakfast. 

Harry shrugged. "I'll still write it. I'll also tell them about that stupid Potions essay Snape's got us writing..."

"And the mirror?" Draco asked casually, though he stiffened. He didn't want to think about it, really. 

Harry gulped at some pumpkin juice. "Probably not. I won't go see it again." 

Draco sighed in relief. He could go explore with Harry without worrying about that, then. 

"Why not?"

"Dumbledore said it showed your deepest desire," Harry explained, "and I realized I'm happy enough without staring at it." He continued tearing at his breakfast as though it wasn't a big deal. 

Draco shifted uncomfortably. If that was his heart's desire...

_Will I ever be happy?_

He shook his head and looked away from Harry, trying to clear his thoughts. Of course he would be. He was happy quite often. 

He couldn't change his parents. 

He tried to bite back tears, telling him self he would _not_ act like a child. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't cry in public...

But why did he have to he taught that in the first place? It wasn't fair. Harry could cry in public. Padfoot and Moony didn't make all kinds of silly rules...

Well, they did. But not anymore, not that they were out. Draco's parents weren't in that situation. 

"Draco?" Harry asked. "What's wrong? Do we need to leave the Great Hall?" 

"Yes." Draco bit his lip and stood up. "Let's go. Class doesn't start till ten."

* * *

They took the walk outside of the castle. Harry had proposed they visit Hagrid to get Draco out of his slump.

Draco didn't really know why seeing Hagrid would make him feel better--last time he had seen him was months ago, and they were having detention with him. _That_ had been no fun. 

Harry checked on him on the walk down. 

"Are you still upset about the mirror?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

"Yes," Draco replied, not bothering to lie. "But it's not your fault, you know. You didn't know."

Harry pursed his lips, still looking guilty. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, what I saw made me happy." He smiled fondly and glanced up at Draco, his cheeks pink, presumably from the cold air. 

"That's good." Draco didn't bother ask what. He didn't care. He hated that mirror. 

"What did you see?" 

Draco winced, but again, he felt no reason to lie. Harry had probably already guessed.  

He kicked at a stone that was in hos way, and stared up at the frigid, gray sky. He took in a deep breath of frosty air, willing himself to speak. 

"It was my parents," he confessed. "They were happy, though. Happier than they are now... But they tell me that things used to be worse, before Father switched sides. I saw them like...like..." He trailed off, his word vomit suddenly nothing more than dry bile. 

"Like it had all never happened?" Harry suggested, sympathy lining his voice that made Draco's chest swell in gratitude. 

And suddenly, he didn't need to cry. He could say it. 

"Father's sleeves were up for once, and there wasn't any Mark. And Mother was holding onto him--the way your dads kind of cling on each other--and they looked so _free_ , Harry." He shook his head, knowing that it wasn't so, that it would never be so. "There were no contracts. They were good because they _were_ , not because they have to be."

It felt good to say it out loud. 

Harry took him by the arm. "But they're happy now, and they _are_ good." He smiled, and added, more to himself, "It will happen in time."

Draco smiled, too, realizing that Harry was right. His parents had gotten better. And they would continue to do so. 

In the few minutes before they reached Hagrid's cabin, they were quiet. Nothing escaped their lips but puffs of frozen breath, and there was no sound but the crunch of their feet on the path. 

And, then, they were at Hagrid's door. Harry grinned at Draco and raised a gloved hand to rap on the door. 

There was a startled clattering from the inside, and Hagrid's cry of, "Jus' a minute!"

"No worries!" Harry shouted at the door. "It's me, Harry."

There was muffled cursing, and more clattering. Draco winced. 

"Bad timing," he murmured bitterly. He had a bad feeling about this. 

"It always is," Harry chuckled. 

Draco frowned as he remembered that Harry often came down here without him, on the afternoons when Draco stayed in the Slytherin common room with Blaise to sketch and keep an eye out for the merpeople. 

Then, the door opened, and Hagrid's face poked out, all his facial hair looking singed. A wild, scared light glinted in his eyes. 

"You'll do yer best to come back later," he wheezed. 

Harry stuck his foot in the door. "What's wrong, Hagrid?" he demanded.

The gamekeeper frowned. "Jus' some issues with the fireplace," he assured him. It wasn't a very convincing lie in the first place, but then another clattering sound gave him away. 

"Some fireplace," Draco muttered, wanting to leave already. 

"That'll be, er, Fang," Hagrid said, looking as if he were about to shut the door right then, Harry's foot and all. 

There was a very un-doglike screech, and Hagrid winced. 

"Go," he ordered desperately. "And don't go breathin' a word of this ter anybody." 

Harry shook his head in determination. 

"What have you gotten into now, Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked uneasy, but he stepped out of the cabin and shut the door behind him. The clattering continued. 

"Listen, 'Arry, I know yeh care, but _no one_ can know about this." The gamekeeper's gaze landed on Draco, worry flickering on his face. "'Specially not a Malfoy."

Draco sighed. "He's done something illegal, hasn't he?"he asked under his breath. He turned to look at the near-giant. "You've done something illegal."

Hagrid shook his head. "No!" he protested. "I mean, ah, not entirely."

Harry groaned loudly. "Hagrid, what did you _do_?"

There was another loud clatter to supplement their worry, and Fang was barking. 

Hagrid winced and looked as though he wanted to run right back into his cabin. He looked around anxiously for eavesdroppers, but apparently decided that they were alone enough for him to divulge his secrets. 

"Yeh won't tell?" he asked anxiously.

"I'll swear it on Merlin _and_ Salazar, and _both_ of their pants for good measure," Draco assured him dryly.

"Our secret." Harry smiled fondly up at the gamekeeper. 

Hagrid buried his face in his hands and sighed. 

"I got a dragon egg," he told them furtively. "He hatched."

"You _what_?!" Draco cried, far too loudly. Harry clamped his hand over his mouth, but he continued with muffled shouting. 

_WHY would you be stupid enough to want a baby dragon?_

_What were you THINKING?_

_This is so ILLEGAL!_

When he was done, Harry's hand slid from his mouth and he was able to speak again. Hagrid's eyes were wide with fear. 

"How did you even get a dragon egg?" Harry asked, letting out a long-suffering groan. 

Hagrid shifted uneasily, his hands never leaving the door. 

"I was at the Hog's Head," he explained in a whisper. "Got a bit drunk--now, don't follow my example, yer only firs' years--and someone offered me one."

"Who?" Draco demanded. "And where was your judgment?"

"Outta the window, I'm afraid," Hagrid sighed. "But I didn't get ter see his face. Covered it up with a cloak."

Harry sighed. "Hagrid, what were you thinking?"

Hagrid shrugged and a stupid grin plastered onto his face. "But I got a _dragon_ outta it, 'arry! His name's Norbert."

Draco groaned. "You _named_ it?" 

Hagrid nodded eagerly. "I 'spose you two can come in and meet him." He opened the door and let them slide in. 

Uneasiness coiled in Draco's gut. He was imagining the disaster that would occur when it got bigger... Or even now!

There was a small-ish red serpentine creature by the fireplace. Smoke was coming out of its nostrils, and its gaze fixed on Harry and Draco hungrily. 

"There, there, Norbert," Hagrid said quietly. "These are _friends_." 

The dragon baby snarled, and so did Fang. It reared its spiny little head to glare at Hagrid, and then fixed its yellow eyes on the boys once more. 

"Hagrid's barking mad," Draco whispered, reaching for Harry's hand out of nervous habit. 

"I might agree." Harry began backing away towards the door. 

"What does it eat, Hagrid?" Draco asked, suddenly worrying that Slytherins might be on its menu tonight. 

"Oh, right now? Just fish an' birds an' things." Hagrid only looked minutely worried about the beast that was sitting on his fireplace. 

"They don't eat just that forever." Draco swallowed, ready to dash out of the door. 

"You can't take care of him, Hagrid," Harry whispered. "You need to get rid of him before you get fired. Or _arrested_."

Hagrid looked sad for a moment, and then he looked petulent.

"Where is he s'posed ter go?" he demanded. 

Harry frowned, his hand already on the door. "I'll have to write Padfoot and Moony. They'll know what to do."

Before Hagrid could protest, they were already sliding out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, can I just say.... Wow?? You are all wonderful readers, and thank you so much for sticking with this!  
> As I am freezing to death in a dorm with no heating system in the middle of November, your comments warm my heart.  
> I must return to studying for finals, however. Please send warm blankets. And vegan soup.  
> (Jk. You guys are great but I don't expect care packages or anything)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adults decide to get involved with the dragon problem.

 Remus was sitting cross legged on the sofa, sipping his morning tea. Sirius was next to him, reading the latest letter from their son. 

 _It's_ _so_ _wonderful_ _calling_ _him_ _that_ , Remus thought fondly. _Our_ _son_. 

"In a minute," Sirius replied, looking slightly off put. He turned the letter over in his hands and shook his head. 

"What is it?" asked Remus, setting down his tea and leaning into his partner to see the letter. 

"Hagrid's gone and done it again," he sighed. "There's a fine line between fun and stupidity, and I'm afraid he's crossed it." 

"How's that?" Remus took the letter from Sirius' hands, growing more and more concerned as he read. 

"Why is that man allowed to be near children?" he asked rhetorically when he was done. "Yes, he's a friend... But really, a dragon? It's not safe."

Sirius nodded gravely. "I love him to death, but not if he ends up hurting Harry." He shook his head in desbelief. "A _dragon_." 

Remus sighed. "I better owl the Weasley's." He got up to get some parchment. 

Sirius stood up as well, and grabbed him by the arm. 

"I don't feel comfortable talking to the Weasley's." He looked concerned. "You know how they are..."

Remus sighed. He knew what Sirius was talking about. The Weasley's were wonderful people, very kind, but there were some areas in which they were still ignorant. 

Same sex couples, for example, were not something they were comfortable with. Their own son, Charlie, was still in the closet because he was afraid to come out to them. For the most part, he stayed far away in Romania, where he could be himself without hurting family relations. 

Remus only knew this because they had met him once, after he had moved away from his family. They had been visiting the dragon reserve Charlie worked at. He had been deligted to meet other gay wizards, and they had promised to keep the other's secret. 

"Relax, Sirius," Remus assured him. "I meant to say Charlie Weasley. We're on good terms with him, after all."

The tension in Sirius' face visibly lessened. "Oh, good. He's the dragon guy, too, isn't he?" He smiled, finally seeing the logic. 

"Yes," Remus confirmed. "We'll tell him to quietly gather the thing." He paused in consideration. "And we'll write the boys and tell them to keep away. It's not their job to deal with it; they're only first years."

"And what of Hagrid?" Sirius mused, looking concerned again. "As pissed as I am with his judgement, I don't want him getting sacked."

"We'll figure something out," Remus answered, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "But I'm more concerned about the cloaked man that purportedly sold the egg to Hagrid."

Sirius' eyes widened, and he seemed to connect the dots. 

"This is the second time a cloaked figure has appeared in a Hagrid story." He began to pace back and forth. "Dumbledore needs to hear this, I think."

Remus paused a moment, wondering what that would mean for Hagrid. But, Dumbledore had to know, and he would find out one way or another. 

"You don't think someone's out to get Hagrid, do you?"

Sirius shook his head. "I think it's more to do with the Stone, actually." 

"Then, I think we need to have a little chat with Hagrid."

* * *

It was a strange feeling for Sirius, to know that Harry was so close by, and yet not being able to visit him. He doubted that the boy would have appreciated an embarrasing, surprise pop-in, though. 

Especially not in the Slytherin dorms. 

He hadn't been to Hogwarts in such a long time, and yet in seeing the castle right there, he felt very much at home. He thought that he might want to pay a visit to the Shrieking Shack on the way back, just for old times' sake. 

But he was here for other business. Remus' hand in his left one, he raised his right to knock on the door of the Gamekeeper's cabin. 

There was some muffled cursing and the barking of a dog. A few crashing noises later, they heard Hagrid's voice on the other side of the door. 

"Harry? Is that you again?"

Remus sighed next to him and gave him a meaningful look. 

"It's his parents," he called through the door. "Sirius and Remus."

There was a quiet, "Oh, no." Then, Hagrid pushed the door open, smelling very much like woodsmoke and looking very much burnt. 

"What do yer lot want?" Hagrid asked cautiously. "Yer not wit' the Ministry, are yeh?"

"I find it deeply disconcerting that the Ministry is your first concern," Remus growled. 

Sirius decided to interrupt and get to the point. 

"Really, Hagrid?" he demanded. "A dragon?"

Hagrid's eyes widended. "Hush, now! Do you want the whole world to hear?" He looked around frantically, as if some Ministry spy was waiting in the nearby bushes. 

"Merlin, old friend, look at yourself!" Remus glared subtly at Hagrid. "Paranoid as old Moody. No one's here."

"Did 'Arry tell yeh?" Hagrid asked nervously. 

"Yes," Sirius replied hotly. "And you can't be upset with him, because you're the one who decided to bring home a _bloody dragon spawn."_

 _"_ Alright, alright," Hagrid muttered. "I'd invite yeh in, but I don't reckon you'd like ter meet Norbert."

Remus winced. "It has a name?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. That wasn't the point they were after. 

"Come sit with us outside, then," Sirius ordered, taking a step away from the door. 

Hagrid seemed to know there was no way out of it. He took one last look into his cabin and stepped outside, where Sirius and Remus were already sitting on the grass. 

"Norbert's burning up my home," Hagrid said quietly, as though he was just realizing the tragedy of his situation. 

"And we're going to help you find him a new home," Remus said consolingly. "But first, we have to ask you some questions."

Hagrid swallowed. "I'm not gettin' sacked, am I?" 

"Of course not. We don't have that power," Remus pointed out. His voice was soft and soothing, and Sirius couldn't help but take his hand. 

Hagrid sat on the grass in front of them, his hulking fingers picking at the little green plants beneath him. He looked strangely like a child, aside from the huge body and facial hair. 

"Whaddya want ter know?" 

Sirius set his jaw. "How did you get a dragon, Hagrid?" he asked. "Not that I want one myself, but it's important to know."

"I won 'im," Hagrid explained. "Went down to the Hog's Head, and some fellow with a cloak offered me a deal. How was I supposed ter know it wasn't legal?" He made an almost pouting face. 

"You knew it was illegal." Remus coughed quietly. "And it's not as though it was something _harmless_ to bring to a _school_ , like your squid." 

"What was the deal?" Sirius asked determinedly. 

"Oh, I don't remember..." Hagrid trailed off and hung his head, staring at the ground while the tips of his ears went pink. 

"Hagrid," Remus said warningly. 

"Fine, fine." Hagrid made a sniffling sound, and it was evident he was on the verge of tears. "I...he asked me abou' Fluffy. An' I...I told 'im how to get by and..." He closed his eyes and began murmuring. 

"Who's Fluffy?" Remus asked cautiously.

Hagrid looked up at them, the picture of despair. 

"He's guarding the Stone."

Sirius nearly choked. 

"We're talking to Dumbledore." 

* * *

Dumbledore was waiting for them at his desk, as if he was expecting them. Fawkes, his phoenix, was perched nearby, watching them with glowing eyes. 

"Ah, gentlemen. Come in." Dumbledore gestured towards the seats, and Remus and Sirius carefully sat down. 

Hagrid had explained the entire story to them, but he refused to leave the cabin while Norbert was awake (and with good reason). Now, they had to explain the circumstances to him. 

"Our apologies for coming on such short notice," Remus said, glancing at Sirius and willing him to use good manners. 

"We got a letter from Harry that made us worry," Sirius prompted. 

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up immediately. "Is something the matter, Sirius?" There was a look in his eye that said he knew something. 

Remus clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to focus on the most delicate way to put the situation. 

"Our son," he began, and Dumbledore flinched at the phrase, "discovered that Hagrid has put himself in a compromising position." He questioned the accuracy of his words, but decided to press on. "It seems that Hagrid was coerced--while under the influence--into exchanging information for a dragon egg."

Dumbledore, never quick to anger, closed his eyes and took a composed breath. 

"And what information was that?"

Sirius took his initiative to answer. "Fluffy," he said curtly, looking as though he were fighting a slight grin at the name. 

Dumbledore paled slightly, and clenched his fist. He took another deep breath. 

"And the dragon egg?" he asked, his eyes shut. 

"It's hatched already.We called Charlie Weasley to take care of it. He needs your permission to get a portkey here, though," Remus informed him. He had taken the liberty of assuming that Dumbledore would have no issue with it. 

The old man had his face in his hands. "Oh, why did he try and hide this from me?" He murmured, and for a moment he looked remorseful. "How soon can it be taken care of?"

"Tomorrow night," Remus answered, feeling slightly sad. Dumbledore had dealt with enough beasts in his time at Hogwarts.

"Thank you for taking initiative, gentlemen," he said, smiling at them both. "It was most selfless of you."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Absolutely not! We were concerned that Harry was going to try and deal with it."

"Was he?" Dumbledore chuckled. "He certainly is James' boy."

Remus bit back a scowl, wishing that Dumbledore would for once acknowledge his and Sirius' contribution to Harry's upbringing. If anything, he was more of Sirius' boy than James'. 

"About that," Sirius added, looking serious for a change. "Harry hasn't tried to go near that floor again, has he?"

Dumbledore smiled at them. 

"He shouldn't want to. I think enough people have dissuaded him."

Remus swallowed, hoping that he was right. If he knew one thing about Harry and Draco, it was that they would always stumble into trouble. 

And that entire fourth floor had "trouble" written all over it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. :( Finals week has got me kinda stressed. On the bright side, I just took my English Final and I'm feeling great about it! (Not that it's relevant to anyone. Sorry.)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've been at school for a while now, and the boys are ready to start adventuring the castle again. The only problem is that the new teacher has been at school just as long, and he isn't as easy to scare anymore.

"Harry," said Draco, "there's a note on your bed."

They had just gotten back from dinner, and they were going back to the dorms before they met with Hermione in the library to study. Draco had spotted tbe note first--thick parchment with red lettering--before Harry did. 

Harry spun to look at it. "It looks like Moony's favorite parchment," he commented. 

Draco grinned and wondered if Harry was just like Moony in that he was particular about parchment. Things like that were something that Padfoot wouldn't stand for, but something that Moony encouraged. 

He also wondered how different Harry would be if he had been raised by the Potters, or anyone else. Would they have been friends? Would they have been as happy?

Harry cleared his throat. "They were at Hogwarts." He frowned. "Padfoot and Moony. They said that they dealt with the dragon. We could visit Hagrid this weekend, if we wanted."

Draco frowned. "Why would I want to?" He was still a little upset over his last visit. 

Harry ignored him, and groaned as he set the letter down. "And why does everyone think that I'll somehow end up killing myself on the fourth floor? It's like I'm Sleeping Beauty or something!"

"You're neither of those things," Draco promised him, not entirely knowing what Harry meant by that. 

"And not that we'd go again anyway, but where should we explore tonight instead?" Harry seemed lost on his own train of thought. 

"We could spy on Quirrel," Draco suggested with a wicked grin. "I'll still bet you anything he's up to something."

Harry sighed. "No. Moony and Padfoot said that's none of my business, either. They talked to Dumbledore."

"Since when were you the one suggesting _against_ rule breaking?" Draco demanded. 

"Spring term is coming," Harry muttered, rubbing his scar absently. "Hermione's got me worried, I think. We should go study. I need to get my potions grade up."

Draco rolled his eyes at another semblance of Moony shining through in Harry. 

"Fine." He began to gather up his books. "But we need to do something fun. Ever since the mirror, you haven't done anything fun."

Harry turned red. "Alright, alright. I'll work on it."

* * *

Harry didn't make up on his word until two weeks later. February was already flying by them, and it felt as though spring vacation was just around the corner. 

They were finally going to go exploring again. They weren't sure if they were going to invite Hermione, though. 

"You two look like you're up to something," she muttered to them in Charms class. "You're not even paying attention. Honestly, I thought you two of all people would be interested in learning _Incendio_."

Harry snorted, which garnered the attention of the next table over.

"We are," he replied quietly, "but I think we're more excited about exploring."

Hermione groaned loudly. "And that's all you can think about? In _Charms_ class?" 

Draco grinned relentlessly. "Of course it is. I'm so excited I can hardly stay in my seat!" He was exaggerating, of course, but he was still thrilled. He didn't know what had changed, but suddenly he was egging to go. 

It was probably the fact that he knew Harry had gone without him for all that time. 

"Do you want to come with us, Hermione?" Harry asked her, sounding just as eager and bouncy as Draco felt.

"Yeah, Hermione, it'll be fun!" Draco poked at her with his wand. 

She winced and pulled away. "What happened to exploring in the day time?" she demanded. "That's not against school rules." She was clearly still sour about getting detention. 

"Not as fun," Draco replied. He was originally the one to suggest the day time ventures, of course, but missing out on the night ones had changed his mind. 

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Aren't you the one who's terrified of the dark?"

"I'm not scared," Draco insisted, crossing his arms and trying not to pout. He couldn't be afraid of the dark; he was a Slytherin!

Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. "He was fine last time. Come on, 'Mione. We won'y get caught!"

She grimaced at them. "You two are my friends, but I don't want to risk another detention. I do have to study, you know."

"Ravenclaws." Draco rolled his eyes.

"She'll come around," Harry assured him. 

"Potter! Malfoy!" 

Harry and Draco spun around to face Professor Flitwick. 

 _"Do_ pay attention!" he shouted at them.

They both sighed dramatically and went back to work. Hermione only smirked at them.  

* * *

That evening, they didn't even bother to sneak up to Ravenclaw Tower to find Hermione. Clearly, it wouldn't do anything, as she was refusing to come with them. 

They first wandered around the dungeons. There weren't as many rooms down there, and most of them were locked. 

"I bet you we can unlock it," Harry whispered when they encountered the first one. "Padfoot taught me the spell."

"So did Flitwick," Draco pointed out, "but you just weren't paying attention."

"I pay attention!" Harry protested in a whisper. "Think of all the time we spent studying in the past few weeks." He drew his wand and pointed it at the lock. 

" _I_ studied," Draco retorted. "You were _worrying_ about studying." 

Harry frowned and stared at the lock. "Shut it. I'm trying to remember the spell."

" _Alohomora_?" Draco suggested helpfully. _He_ had been paying attention to Flitwick. 

"That's it," Harry agreed, and cast the spell. It unlocked with a click, and he grinned in satisfaction.

"Why is it even lock it if it's so easy to get through?" Draco muttered, glaring at the door as Harry opened it silently. 

"How's that?" Harry asked absently, peering into the room. 

Draco furrowed his brow in thought. "It's just that... if they teach us how to unlock the doors, aren't they practically asking us to unlock them?" 

"You sound like Hermione," Harry grumbled. "Stop it and look in here."

Draco ignored the comment and obliged. He couldn't help but feel disappointed when he saw the room was nothing exciting. He was expecting a room full of trophies or something grand like that. 

"It's a dusty old classroom," he muttered drily. 

Harry grinned at him. "Isn't it brilliant?" he exclaimed. "Let's go unlock all the other ones and see what else we can find."

Draco just grinned and followed after him. He supposed that this was what he had asked for. The good thing was that he got to spend time with Harry, even if they never found anything as exciting as the fourth floor. 

They took turns unlocking the doors, seeing who was faster. Draco usually won, if not only because he remembered learning it in class. 

About an hour in, he had gotten bored, though. 

"Let's go somewhere else," he whispered. He had started thinking he heard Filch and his cat every other minute. Staying in one hallway might up their chances of getting detention even more. 

"Fine." Harry slipped out of the room and peered down both ends of the hallway. "Lead the way."

Draco shrugged and started heading for the staircase out of the dungeon. He didn't think he had ever been the one to lead the way, but he wasn't about to complain. Harry took his hand, as he had begun to do as of late, and Draco wasn't about to complain about that either. He was still a little jumpy, wandering around at night, and Harry always seemed to comfort him.

It was darker than usual as they went up the staircase, as if the lights had been snuffed out. Their shadows drifted over the stone walls as they hurried up the staircase, and the portraits were unusually empty.

Draco squeezed Harry's hand as they made it to the top of the staircase. He felt unusually antsy. He glanced around the corridor before making a sharp left.

"Where are you taking us?" Harry whispered from behind, still clinging to Draco's hand faithfully.

"I thought we might visit Squirrel's office," Draco chuckled. "Perhaps we'll figure out what's with all that garlic!" 

Of course, he meant to find out about more than just the garlic. But it was best to keep it lighthearted in the darkness of night. He didn't want to go scaring himself any time soon. 

"Padfoot and Moony said that Quirrel was none of our business," Harry reminded him, giving his hand a small tug. 

Draco pulled him forward into the next hallway, adrenaline beginning to seep into his system. He still thought he could hear Filch and his cat somewhere, but he was sure he was hallucinating. 

"Since when did you care about rules, Potter?" he asked teasingly. They were almost to Quirrel's office.

"I don't usually," Harry replied, "but I thought you might."

Draco huffed in amusement. He certainly didn't care when it came to Quirrel. The man creeped him out.

"We're here." Draco stopped walking, let go of Harry's hand, and pressed an ear to the door. He heard nothing. "You keep watch while I try to unlock it."

"Yes, sir!" Harry winked at him and glanced around nervously to make sure no teachers were coming.

Draco held his wand up to the door and whispered the spell, doing the exact same motion he had done with all the other doors. The only difference was that it didn't unlock.

"Fizzing whizbees," he cursed. "Harry, it's no good. The door is locked."

Harry turned around and rolled his eyes. "Did you unlock it?"

"Yes, I tried the spell! Nothing!"

"Let me try." Harry moved in front of Draco and performed the spell as well. It was no good. The lock didn't budge.

"Well, I suppose that answers my question," Draco sighed, glaring at the lock dejectedly. "They teach us the spell because they know it won't get us into their office." He gave the door his best sneer and turned away, anxiously checking for signs of other people again.

Harry was still stubbornly trying to unlock it. "I bet there's a variation of the spell that could get it open," he murmured. "There has to be."

"Well, they won't teach it to us here," Draco sighed. "Come on, we should probably go. We've been out over an hour already, and we have History of Magic first thing tomorrow."

Harry was jabbing his want futilely at the lock. "We can sleep during that class and Binns won't notice. Just give me a minute." 

"You're going to break your wand." Draco watched him with disapproval now. Sometimes Harry could be so terribly thick headed.

"Am not. If this doesn't work, we can go snoop on Snape." He stopped trying to maul the door and turned to Draco with a grin. 

"If what doesn't work?" Draco demanded. "Stabbing the lock? And who said anything about Snape? Didn't we decide that he wasn't evil?" His voice was raising, and he voluntarily hushed himself in case someone heard.

Harry smirked. "What was that fire spell we learned? In--" he cut off and held his hand to his forhead, a loud groan escaping his lips. 

"Your scar again?" Draco asked nervously, stepping closer to support Harry as he lost his balance.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, his voice going soft. "Maybe we should go back to the dungeons. To the dorms."

Draco nodded, taking him by the shoulder and walking away, making sure to keep his own footsteps quiet. "Or Madam Pomfrey's. These keep getting worse."

Harry winced. "But what will we tell her? We can't exactly let her know that we were out this late."

"We'll tell her you had a headache, and that got up to take you to her," Draco suggested. He gave himself a moment to think over their story so they didn't have a disaster similar to when Snape and Quirrel caught them on Halloween. 

"Fine," Harry agreed. That was all he said for a few minutes, and they continued going as fast as they could to the hospital wing.

They both panicked when they heard footsteps approaching. Harry's eyes widened, but he kept his mouth shut as Draco slowed down and they moved closer to the wall.

"We're just going to the hospital wing," Draco assured himself, speaking so quietly that he didn't even think Harry could hear them.

"T-t-there you are!"

They both jumped as a voice shouted from behind. Harry groaned as if the sharp sound had hurt him, and Draco spun to face the approaching person.

It was Quirrel.

"Where are y-you two going?" he demanded, his purple night robes billowing out behind him as he strode towards them, much more confident than last time. In the back of his mind, Draco noticed he was still wearing that ugly turban. He wondered if he ever took it off.

"Hospital Wing, sir," Draco replied easily. "Harry has another headache." 

Harry moaned loudly for extra effect.

Quirrel narrowed his eyes, apparently recognizing the scene. "And I s-suppose this is s-spirits, too?" He scowled. "I-it's much t-too late for that, boys."

Draco sighed and continued walking towards the Hosptial Wing. Put off, Quirrel still followed after them.

"He woke up from a nightmare, sir. The spirits are still after him."

Quirrel grabbed Draco by the arm and forced him to turn around and face him.

"I know you're lying, Mister Malfoy," he hissed warningly. "You two tried to break into my office. I felt the ward go off."

Draco felt the blood drain from his face as he blanched in fear. He swallowed and forced himself to meet Quirrel's eye.

"We thought you could help, sir," he said quietly, "but you weren't there.

"Help?" Quirrel demanded.

"Yes, sir," Draco replied, pulling Harry up to a straighter standing position. "You are the expert in defending against the Dark, and I'd bet my sickles that these are Dark spirits that keep giving Harry headaches." He suppressed a smile as he congratulated himself from formulating a better story than the last time.

Quirrel didn't look entirely convinced, and the look in his eyes was one of the least friendly expressions Draco had ever encountered. But at that moment, Harry made a particularly patheric noise, and Quirrel was probably forced to give in by some secret teacher's law.

"I will help by escorting you to the Hospital Wing," Quirrel answered grudgingly. "But then I am consulting your Head of House, who you should have gone to first."

* * *

"What were you thinking, Draco?" Professor Snape demanded, having sat Draco down at his desk back in the dungeons.

Harry was alone in the hospital wing, being pampered by Madam Pomfrey. Draco wanted to be with him rather than be interrogated by Snape.

"Nothing, sir," Draco answered, averting his gaze to stare at the wood desk. "I was just helping Harry."

"That's nothing but a load of hippogriff," Snape snapped. "You tried to break into a professor's office. I should give you both detention for the rest of the term!"

Draco's cheeks went red with shame and he absently kicked his legs over the edge of the chair. 

"I don't trust Quirrel, sir," he confessed. "Not since Halloween."

"That's no excuse," Snape reminded him coldly. "Think about what your mother would say! You are most fortunate that I haven't gone and written her already." His voice was heavy with disappointment.

"I know." Draco hung his head, not wanting to think about his mother again. "But the point is we didn't, and we went straight to the hospital wing."

Snape sighed and stared hopelessly up at the ceiling. "And why did you think you would break into his office? Because neither Professor Quirrel or I are stupid, and we don't believe your story. Lying doens't help, Draco."

Draco buried his face in his hands. "I know, Professor. I was just trying to help Harry and get him to the hospital wing."

"So Potter really did have a headache."

"Yes, sir," Draco answered. "And he really shouldn't get detention. It was my idea." He thought about Harry getting stuck in detention for the rest of the year, and for some reason he was more worried about that than his own parents' reactions.

"To drag your friend, who was doubling over from pain, to a professor's office to break in?" Snape demanded, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No!" Draco exclaimed. "The headache came after we tried to break in."

"So Mister Potter did have a role?" Snape interrogated, looking more frustrated than angry. "I should give you both detentions."

Draco sat up and stared at Snape with pleading eyes. "Please, sir, don't! It was me, not Harry." He didn't know why he was defending him so. Perhaps it was because it had been his idea. He just wanted to have fun with Harry again, and he didn't want his friend to never do anything with him again. Harry had never got caught when he went without Draco...

Yes, that was it. It was all his fault, he reasoned. Harry had been perfectly happy to stick to studying potions, too, but Draco had provoked him. He just made everything worse. He closed his eyes and tried not to start crying again.

He heard Snape sigh very loudly. "If I checked the signatures on both of your wands, I'm sure I would find that you both were involved." Snape's voice was low and threatening, and it snapped Draco back to reality.

He shook his head vigorously in protest. They had cast _alohomora_ far too many times for it to have been appropriate, and it would do nothing but get them in more trouble.

"Fine!" Draco groaned, regretting the admission before he even gave it. "Harry did it, too. We both did. I'm sorry."

Snape smirked, looking terribly satisfied with himself.

"No detentions for either of you," he conceded at last. "Though I am loathe to do it to my own house, I shall settle for fifty points from Slytherin. For each of you."

Draco gasped. That was a whole hundred points, which would put them almost to last place in the House Cup. It would break their streak. 

But it was better than detention, he reasoned. Mother and Father would be most upset with him, and Padfoot and Prongs would probably just scold them for not being sneaky enough.

"Why, sir?" he asked at last. "Why not detention?"

"Because you admitted Harry was involved," Snape replied casually. "It's pleasant to see that you're not _entirely_ devoted to Potter." 

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

Snape ignored him and stood up. He took a moment to stare at a photograph on his desk, one that Draco couldn't see.

"I would have thought that, being Slytherin, you and Potter might have at least managed to be more sly about your mischeif than Potter's father. But you seem to have failed the House legacy." He tutted to himself, and his dark gaze fixed on Draco a moment later.

"Sir?" he choked out.

"I'm not condoning your shenanigans, Draco, but if you and Potter, as Slytherins, can prove to be better than those Gryffindor Maurauders, I wouldn't be _entirely_ displeased." He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe his own words. "Though, if any of your antics are directed at me, you will both earn a year's worth of detention. And you must learn to be more subtle."

Draco blinked in complete disbelief. Did Snape just give them permission to break the rules?

"And stay away from Quirrel for now. The Headmaster and I are keeping an eye on him. It's none of your business to check in on the behavior of professors." His back was facing Draco now, and he sounded surprisingly calm.

Draco couldn't find any words. He was still caught up on the fact that Snape had just told him that "shenanigans" were okay so long as they were better than... _the Gryffindor Maurauders? Who are they, anyway? Fred and George?_

"Go back to the dorms, Draco. I will go and retrieve Mr. Potter." Snape turned around, and Draco took it as his cue to leave.

He had a lot to think about.

And even more to talk about with Harry.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama. Girl drama. More drama. Oh, and that classic Slytherin fraternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I have internet connection, so I can actually write on my laptop instead of typing on my phone and using up cellular data. Hurray!

"You two are complete idiots."

It was better than being ignored, Draco supposed, but Hermione's bitter attitude with them was only salt on the wound. They had already lost one hundred points for Slytherin, and they had already gotten in trouble. They didn't need her chastising them.

"Well, aren't you glad we didn't take you with us?" Draco snapped. They were back in Herbology class. It was more peaceful than their last several lessons, which were about mandrake roots. It was much more peaceful to talk over aconite, which reminded him of the lupin flowers that Mother sometimes grew in her garden. 

Or perhaps it was the same thing as aconite. He couldn't really tell.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't even know why I bother with you two."

"Because we're fun," Harry piped up. "Much less boring than the Ravenclaws."

"But she never does anything fun with us," Draco pointed out. "She's yet to even make it." 

She sneered at them. "Insufferable," she growled. "That's what you two are."

"She's just proving her point," Harry said with a bit of a sigh. "Maybe she needs some fun."

"Oh, yes indeed," Draco conceded. "You  _have_ to come explore the castle with us, 'Mione," he pleaded. 

She hesitated for a moment, but something made Draco think she didn't even have to think about it.

"Fine. I'll come with you." She raised her eyebrows at them challengingly, as if she were expecting surprise or protest.

Neither Draco or Harry was taken aback. They shared a mischevious look and grinned. 

"Next time we go exploring, we'll come and get you from the tower," Harry said. "And you  _have_ to come with us." 

"Only if you can get past the door, though," Hermione bartered, crossing her arms and looking unnecessarily smug. Her puffy hair only made her look even sillier.

"Fine." Draco shrugged. They could get past the riddle at the door. They had done it before, after all. "But we can't go and fetch you, so you'll have to wait in the common room."

Harry nodded in agreement. "We'll let you know next time we go. We'll have it planned by dinner."

"And how soon do you think that will be?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Draco cut in, using his most overbearing tone. "A few  _weeks_ in the least. We don't want to get caught out too soon after our last bout of trouble." He smirked at her, knowing that in a few weeks, she would want to be frantically studying with the rest of the Ravenclaws for exams (even though it wasn't even April yet, let alone May).

Her eyes widened, but she stiffened her jaw and glard at him. "I won't back out, in case that's what you're hoping." She sniffed and gave him another scathing look. "But I can't see why you're the one making the terms. After all, every time  _you've_ gone, you get in trouble."

Draco winced. That hurt, feeding his own insecurities back at him like that. He might have deserved it, though.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Both of you need to relax. We won't get caught."

* * *

A week later, they were still determining when would be best to take Hermione rule-breaking with them. They decided there had to be a considerate amount of planning; they didn't want to be caught again, after all.

Draco hoped Snape would remain indifferent. He wasn't sure what his strange promise-- _was it a promise?--_ meant, but he wasn't about to take too much advantage over it. He didn't trust his teachers too much, he had found.

Especially since Snape was so close to Draco's mother. What if she had told him to say that just so she could see if Draco would take up on an offer of mischeif?

He definitely would. But he didn't want his mother finding out.

"It can't be Quirrel related," Harry said decidedly while they lounged in the common room. "I had so much trouble writing Padfoot and Moony after getting caught. I had to not mention Quirrel without lying."

"You're becoming more Slytherin by the day, my friend," Draco snickered. He was trying to draw the mermaid he had spotted the other day, but he was being distracted by the fish in front of the window, so he kept drawing that.

"Thank you," Harry said with a grin. "But anyway. We need to come up with something to do that will impress Hermione." His grin turned to a pensive frown.

Draco frowned, too, but it was because his drawing looked more like a fish with a vaguely humanoid face than anything else. He wasn't terrible at drawing, but this was definitely one of his worst. He crumpled it up in a ball and threw it at the window.

He jumped when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. He spun around to see that Blaise was standing behind him.

"Are you two talking about that Ravenclaw girl?" he asked with a smirk, plopping down next to Draco and peering at his drawing.

"Yes," Draco answered. "She's our friend."

Blaise raised his eyebrows, and then snatched the drawing away from Draco. "I'm keeping this. Anything you draw that's fish related is mine." 

"Whatever." Draco sighed. "It's not that great anyway."

Blaise huffed in satisfaction. 

"We're trying to get her to go exploring with us," Harry explained, cutting into the conversation. Blaise usually seemed to ignore him, and Harry hated that.

"You never ask me to go exploring," Blaise pouted as he folded up the drawing and tucked it into his pocket. "But I guess I'm not a pretty girl." His pout turned into a sneer, and both Draco and Harry stuck out their tongues in disgust.

"Ew, Blaise," Draco groaned, "not like that. We just want to include her more."

"Yeah," Harry said earnestly. "Don't go thinking like that. We wouldn't want to get to her like that!"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Yet," he mumbled. "My mum says that in a year or two, we'll all be crazy about girls. So she's teaching me how to be nice to them. I reckon I should teach you, too."

Draco groaned loudly. Girls were the last thing he wanted to think about. Girls were either nasty like Parkinson, or they were friends like Hermione. Blaise was thinking too far ahead.

"We're plenty nice to girls," Harry assured him, pulling out the book he had been negelcting as if to block himself from Blaise.

"Yeah, right." Blaise scoffed. "You're always rude to your Ravenclaw friend. And to other girls!"

"If you're talking about Parkinson," Draco muttered darkly, "she started it. She deserves it."

"Did you ever think that Parkinson was just trying to get your attention?" Blaise turned to face Harry with a sly grin. "Mum says that it's mostly boys who do that, but I reckon Parkinson isn't above it."

Draco gagged. "Gross, Zabini. We don't want anything to do with Parkinson!" He shook his head as if trying to shake out something nasty from his ears.

"You're saying that now," Blaise hummed, "but you'll change your mind."

"We don't have to," Harry pointed out, making a funny face.

"I know _I_ never will!" Draco exclaimed earnestly, knowing that Parkinson was awful. "Her father hates mine, you know. It would be absolutely terrible! He's terrible!"

Harry's face fell. "That isn't what I meant..."

"Right." Blaise cleared his throat. "I forget about your dads, Harry."

Draco blinked and looked between the two of them, feeling confused. "What about them?" 

Harry sighed and Blaise shook his head. "Never mind, Draco," he grumbled. "Anyway, back to that Ravenclaw friend of yours. You're planning to sneak out with her sometime?"

"Whatare you firsties going on about?" 

Draco turned and saw that one of the prefects was behind them, and she looked terribly disapproving.

"Sneaking out? Girls? I'd say you're all a little too young for that." She shook her finger at them and tutted, though she had a smile and seemed to be teasing.

Harry's cheeks turned red. "Not like that!" he exclaimed.

Blaise batted his eyelashes at the prefect. "We're still innocent, Gemma," he assured her.

"I doubt that, Zabini." She laughed and narrowed her eyes, but she turned to smile at Draco and Harry. "I haven't met you two, I'm afraid. A bit late in the year, but if I remember, you weren't on time the first night. I'm one of the prefects. Gemma Farley."

"Hi." Draco thought he had seen her name on Snape's list, but he wasn't sure. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

"I know," she chirped, sitting down across from them. "And that's Harry Potter. I've been meaning to introduce myself to the two of you, actually. It's my duty to make sure all of the underclassmen in Slytherin aren't getting ourselves into trouble."

"We're not!" Harry exclaimed, a little to defensively.

"That's not what Snape says," she said warningly. "And then I walk over to hear you discussing sneaking out? Do I need to have an intervention with you two?"

Draco resisted to urge to roll his eyes. If one more person talked to him about staying safe, and Merlin forbif that they even mention the bloody fourth floor, he didn't know what he was going to do. Scream, probably.

"No," he growled. "Snape's probably going to talk to me about it soon enough anyway."

Gemma laughed. "He's just keeping an eye out. Even for you, Potter."

Blaise, who had seen the way that Snape treated Harry first hand in Potions class, merely snickered. "Keeping an eye out for 'antics'," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm sure," Harry answered. "What did you want?"

"Touchy," Gemma murmured. "And I just wanted to say hi. Check on you ickle firsties." She grinned again, and her eyes glimmered mischeviously. "And passive-agressively acknowledge that you, Potter and Malfoy, probably lost us the House Cup this year. That's breaking nearly a decade-long streak."

Both boys winced, and Blaise's eyes widened in shock. Apparently, Snape had kept it quiet. Except with the Prefects.

"Well, thanks," Draco muttered, already pulling out a piece of parchment to start drawing on. 

"Also, wanted to mention that I don't want to see you pulling any more crap with Parkinson," Gemma added, suddenly sounding sour. "I heard you talking about her, and listen, I'm not saying you need to like her... But Slytherins don't talk shit about each other, got it? Fraternity extends to more than just boys here." She got up and looked down at them, looking very much like a hawk for a moment.

"Yes, ma'am," all three of the boys answered at once.

She smirked. "Good," she mumbled. "We've all got each other's backs here. And I reckon I better remind Parkinson of that, too."

Draco couldn't help but think that was a bit of a lost cause, everything that Gemma had brought up. Harry and Draco weren't about to stop breaking the rules, and they weren't about to get friendly with Parkinson.

* * *

Another week past, and it was March. They had finally were going to begin taking broom-flying lessons with Madam Hooch, but Draco had already decide that it would be boring. Flying with first year rules would be miserable. He wouldn't be able to do any tricks, or probably even go fast, because they were all going to be treated like beginners.

Even worse was the fact that they had to do it with the Gryffindors. Wasn't it bad enough that they had to ride on Cleansweeps?

Harry, however, wasn't in a foul mood at all. He had been jabbering about finally getting to fly for the past several days, and now he was eagerly talking to Neville.

Draco watched from a distance as the boy sheepishly showed Harry his Rememberall (for probably the dozenth time). Nearby, the Weasley brat was chattering with his other Gryffindor mates, already miming the act of flying on a broom.

Madam Hooch was ten minutes late. She strode out onto the field, looking rather proud. Draco had the sneaking suspicion that she was a Gryffindor. She looked very sure of herself.

"Good morning, class!" she exclaimed, walking in front of all of them and surveying them as though they were a Quidditch team and she were their captain. "Are you all excited for your first flying lesson? It's about time!"

There was a cheer, though to Draco it sounded a little half hearted. Or perhaps that was just him.

"Where have you been all year?" Weasley asked, apparently impervious to etiquette. It was a rude question, Draco thought. 

Madam Hooch looked slightly annoyed for a moment, but she answered anyway. "Well, in the hopes of preventing any rumors... My partner, a professional Quidditch player, had an accident early on in the season. I was busy taking care of them." She glanced around the room as if looking for any new questions.

A Gryffindor's hand shot up. "Which team?" he asked eagerly, a smile on his face.

Madam Hooch frowned. "The Holyhead Harpies," she answered, looking at them as though she expected some opposition. 

Draco was only briefly perplexed. The Holyhead Harpies was an all women's team--everyone knew that. That confused what he thought 'partner' meant. If they were both women.... Well, he supposed it wasn't that different from Padfoot and Moony.

"Your partner's a girl?" Parkinson asked, gaping. "Can you even do that? Be with another girl?" She looked utterly perplexed, and Draco was surprised that there was no look of animosity or even judgment on her face. She had been so mocking about Harry's parents, after all.

Hooch sighed loudly. "Yes, Parkinson," she answered, apparently not about to elaborate. "But anyway, his is a flying lesson, firsties. Let's get to business. Everyone get next to your brooms."

In a moment, the class was divided into two lines, facing each other. Somehow, the Gryffindors and Slytherins had segregated perfectly. Save for Harry, that is; he was still with Neville.

"Now, all of you put your right hands over your brooms and say 'up!'. Then, I will show you how to mount it. But don't you even  _try_ flying," Madam Hooch said warningly, giving them all meaningful looks.

Draco rolled his eyes at the elementary act and held out his hand. "Up!" he shouted along with the rest of the class. The broom flew into his hand with a thunk, and he made eye contact with Harry across from him, who had gotten his with equal ease. They both grinned at each other, both knowing how silly it was.

Longbottom was having a little trouble already, and Draco tried his best not to snicker. He mounted his own broom with ease, and watched with exasperation as Longbottom was already struggling, and Harry was trying to help him.

 _Honestly,_ Draco thought,  _he's a pureblood, isn't he? He grew up around brooms. Poor clumsy soul._

He kicked his heels off the ground, and he was hovering a few inches high. It was excruciating, just wobbling a bit and not being able to fly. He wanted to jump into the air and begin soaring. He hadn't flown in a long time, though he did do a bit of it over Christmas vacation. It wasn't enough, though.

Still, he supposed it was better than most of the other students. Most were still staring at their brooms and shouting "Up!" over and over again in flustered tones. He smirked to himself. At least Longbottom wasn't the only klutz.

"Malfoy!" Hooch called, walking over to Draco. "I didn't say you could mount yet. And you've done it all wrong, anyhow."

Draco turned red. "This is how my Father showed me to do it," he muttered, refusing to get off of his broom. He looked pleadingly at Harry, who was still talking assuringly with Neville.

"Well, your father's got it wrong. Get off and let me show you." Hooch was glaring at him determinedly, and Draco merely huffed and slid off the edge of his broom in compliance.

"See?" Hooch demanded. "You shouldn't even be able to slide off."

Draco tried to keep his ears from turning even redder as he heard Weasley laughing at him. He tried to focus on Hooch and swallow his pride as she corrected his technique. 

In a few minutes, everyone had gotten their brooms in their hands, and Hooch was showing them how to mount.

"Now, firsties," she said. "In a minute, you're going to all kick off of the ground as hard as you can. But only go a few inches into the air, and then come right down. On the count of three."

Draco sighed dramatically. It was such a menial task. Who could screw it up?

After the count of three, his question was answered. Poor Neville Longbottom, catastrophe of all catastrophes, had at least managed to get his broom into the air. But he hadn't been able to stop there, and much like a fat balloon, he began going higher and higher into the air.

And then, he began to wobble, and Draco realized that he was going to fall like a popped balloon. Harry looked mortified, and Draco thought he could hear Madam Hooch yelling at him to come down, but all Draco could do was imagine poor Longbottom falling and crashing to the earth.

That would be no good at all. He realized that he could do something, though.

And he really, really wanted to fly again. Now, he had an excuse, and he might even get commended for it. He could prove that he could be a hero, that he wasn't all bad.

In a rush of something he wasn't sure was compassion or excitement or both, he kicked off into the air and accelerated the cheap broom as fast as he could, and he was soaring into the air. Longbottom was slowly getting higher, but he was wobbling, and he was going to fall.

Draco saw a flash of red as Longbottom's Rememberall fell from his pocket, but Draco couldn't catch that, and it would do no good. He zipped up to where Neville was, and he realized the boy was screaming as he grabbed his arm.

And then all the other noises he hadn't realized he'd been shutting out came back to him, and he heard Madam Hooch shouting at him from the ground--why wasn't she up there, too?--and the rush of wind and his own heartbeat and Neville's panicked screaming.

Draco held onto Neville's arm. He got him. He was fine.

Now they just had to get down.

But Neville seemed to have already devised his own stupid solution to that, and he screamed again as he wobbled a final moment, and then he had slid off his broom.

He was dangling from Draco's arm for but a moment, and then there was a terrible popping noise, and Neville screeched one last time. Draco couldn't hold onto him without hurting him or falling off his own broom, but he lost his grip anyway, and he lost his own balance as Neville began plummeting back to the ground. 

He felt his own stomach drop as he watched, and a scream was escaping his own lips, but he managed to steady himself. He slowly made his way to the ground, but he felt strangely disoriented and he tumbled into a landing.

There was panicked screaming, and he saw the rest of the class was some ten meters away. There was panicked shouting, and Madam Hooch was bending over Neville.

Draco rushed over to join them, just as he saw Hooch begin to drag the crying boy away. "None of you touch these brooms, or you'll find yourselves with detention for the rest of the year. And whatever Filch does with that will make Mr. Longbottom's predicament look like nothing."

Her eyes fell on Draco, and he couldn't read her expression. "And you, Mr. Malfoy. Don't think you're getting out of this easy."

There was a nervous murmur, and Draco fell in next to Harry, his heart still thundering in panic as Hooch and Neville left.

"Way to go, Malfoy," Weasley growled. "You pushed Neville off of his broom! I knew you were evil from the start." He was sneering darkly, and the rest of the Gryffindors were behind him, looking angry.

Draco gaped at them. That wasn't what had happened, that wasn't what was supposed to happen! He was supposed to be a hero.

"I'm not evil!" He protested, telling himself he was not going to cry. "I was trying to save him."

Weasley scoffed. "Yeah, and Potter wasn't trying to nick Neville's Rememberall when he caught it falling." He glared at Harry. "You give that here."

Harry held out his hand, and the Rememberall was indeed in his hand, glowing red. "Take it," he said, unabashed by the accusations. "I wasn't trying to steal it. Just didn't want it to break." Harry tossed it at him.

Weasley rolled his eyes and moved to catch it, but he missed and ended up stumbling after it. "You did that on purpose!" he cried. "Stupid Slytherins!"

A girl stepped in and pushed Ron aside. "Leave them alone, Ron. We don't want to start a fight. They didn't do anything." She stared him down angrily. "This is as much their fault as Neville's. Which is to say, none."

Draco realized she looked exactly like Hermione's friend in Ravenclaw. Patil, he thought. One of the twins.

Then, of course, Parkinson had to enter the ring, because she couldn't resist drama where there was any.

"I can't believe you're standing up for them, Patil," she sneered, her face hard. "I didn't realize you liked  _babies_ like the lot of them."

Patil narrowed her eyes. "At least I don't like _girls,_ Parkinson," she snarled.

There was a gasp from almost the entire group of first years. They all turned to stare at Parkinson, who began to stutter and gape, looking terrified.

"I never said that!" she exclaimed. "That's not true!"

Some of the Gryffindor girls began to look uneasy, and even her friends in Slytherin looked uncomfortable. Draco had trouble believing that. Why weren't they standing up for her, if they were her friends?

He remembered what Gemma had told them about Slytherins sticking together, and he felt guilt nagging at him as Weasley turned the taunting away from him and Harry to Parkinson. It wasn't fair, he thought.

He could be the hero here, too. Even if Parkinson was still a brat.

"Cut it out!" he shouted, stepping in the way as Weasley was beginning to snicker at Parkinson. "This is all a bunch of hogwash. You're being terrible."

Harry noticed the cue and stepped in. "And it's not right to make fun of her for liking girls. Even worse if it's a lie." He made the same face he always did when he had to defend his dads, and Draco realized again that it wasn't so different.

"I don't need your help," Parkinson muttered, but she looked as though she needed it. She still looked cornered.

"Look at the lot of them." Weasley took a long look at his opponents. "The evil Slytherins are sticking together."

"We're not evil!" Draco protested. How many times did he have to prove that?

"Yeah!" Theo stepped into the circle and stood next to Parkinson. "Harry's the reason the Dark Lord is gone, and Draco's parents helped. And it's not like any of us are Death Eaters."

Pansy scowled, and so did a few of the other Slytherins, but no one seemed like they were about to argue. Weasley looked flustered, and Patil just snorted in amusement.

"You're the nasty one, Weasley," Blaise cut in. "You don't pick on girls. Or my friends." He swept his gaze over the other Slytherins with something close to fondness.

Draco couldn't help but smile as more and more of his friends stepped in to defend them. They were a team for once. The Gryffindors--well, Weasley, mainly--looked a little put off, and that made it even better.

He nudged Harry's arm affectionately as Madam Hooch came back, and the Slytherins were all grinning at each other like they hda just won some great battle.

"That's what fraternity is, I'm guessing," Harry whispered to Draco as the class began to quiet down.

"We've all got each other's backs." Draco giggled. He felt invincible. Nothing bad could happen to him, not when he had his friends. He felt proud of himself. He had saved Neville, and he had even stood up for a enemy.

How was that bad? He wasn't evil. What had he been worrying about all that time? He--

He was jarred from his thoughts as Madam Hooch marched up to him, a stern expression on her face and her hands on her hips.

"You better come with me, Mr. Malfoy," she said gravely. "I've got to take you to your Head of House to see what we have to do about your disorderly behavior."

Draco swallowed.

Doubt filled his mind, and he didn't feel so invicible anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I'm really sorry. For the minor cliffhanger, and for more title drama. I'm not sure how I feel about the series name, but I don't know what else I really want to call it. 
> 
> On another note, I'll be working on and off on Sirius and Remus' story about raising Harry. It won't be as updated as often as this, and I don't think its necessary to this plot line, but it will explain plenty of things.
> 
> That I'll be calling In Like A Lion, so now I kinda want to call the series Out Like A Snake... 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, everyone. :) Leave a comment if you're feeling chatty.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco eavesdrops, Quirrel is up to something, and it's time to investigate. First year logic is strange sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, awkward moment. I just realized it's the hidden corridor on the third floor that's forbidden, not the fourth floor. And I don't have the motive to go back and fix the entire thing right now.  
> So, bear with me. Hogwarts is a constantly changing castle anyway, with the moving staircases and whatnot. Besides, this entire thing is based off of the butterfly effect, and it's fanfiction, so it's not all going to be correct. It's not canon anyway. Muahahaha.

Draco was waiting for Snape. Madam Hooch had dropped him off in the Potion Master's office, but he was nowhere to be found. Draco was beginning to be worried, and at the moment, he was beginning to think he was going mad.

He thought he heard voices coming from somewhere, but he didn't know what they were saying or where they were. He stood up and began to search for the sound.

Then, he realized they were coming through the bookshelf, or perhaps the wall behind it. He pressed his ear to it, realizing that it had to be a door, or else he wouldn't be able to hear the voices through the stone. It must have been Snape's living quarters.

He could hear the voices as words now. Snape was talking to someone, and from the sound of it, he was very upset. No wonder he was taking so long.

"You can't keep lying," Snape's low voice growled. "Dumbledore is no fool. Even students have begun to pick up on what you're doing."

"I d-d-don't know what you m-mean," a familiar voice stuttered. It was Quirrel, Draco realized. He always seemed to stutter more when he was nervous.

"You learned how to get past Hagrid's beast, haven't you?" Snape demanded. "You traded the information by tricking him and nearly losing him his job. It's clear where your loyalties lie, Quirinus, but I can't help but wonder how wise you're being. You're being rather reckless, going after the Stone like this."

Draco tried to stifle a gasp. So Quirrel  _was_ after the Stone. And, somehow, Hagrid was involved... Draco frowned as he remembered Norbert the dragon, but pushed the thought away and focused on the conversation again.

"M-my loyalites lie where y-yours do, Snape," Quirrel hissed in response.

"My loyalties lie there no longer."

Draco felt a shudder travel down his spine, and there were only so many conclusions he could draw.

One, that he had just been falsely accusing Quirrel the whole time and he was loyal to the Light just as Snape had come to.

Or, two, that he was lying, and he was devoted to the Dark, and Draco didn't want to know what that meant.

Even worse, there was a possibility that drifted into his mind that he didn't want to explore. But... what if it was Snape who was loyal to the Dark?

"I'm s-sure you s-s-say that, S-severus," Quirrel stuttered in response. "But you'll r-regret leaving. I will s-succeed."

"I hardly see how you can believe that," Snape answered, "when the Headmaster and I have come to see your motives. I don't know exactly what you plan to do with the Stone, Quirinus, but it's surely highly illegal. It will be bad enough when people piece together all the unicorn deaths that have occured since the beginning of the year."

Draco heard a high and piercing laugh that made him think of the time Harry had nearly collapsed from head pains during Halloween. He tried not to shudder again.

"Life is a very precious t-thing," Quirrel responded slowly. "If you t-truly knew w-what I was seeking, you would understand. We all l-lost loved ones in the war. You es-especially."   

There was a long silence on Snape's end.

"You know nothing of what I have lost," he answered at last. "And even then, I would not go to such lengths to revive her. Your efforts are misguided, Quirinus. The Stone cannot bring loved ones back. It will only keep you longer from joining them."

Draco pressed his ear closer to the bookshelf. He wondered who Snape had lost, and who Quirrel was trying to get back.

Quirrel laughed again, and it was as chilling as last time.

" _You_ are misguided, Severus." He did not stutter, notably. "You will understand. For now, however, you cannot stop me." 

There was a long silence, and he heard Severus curse loudly. Draco hung by the bookshelf, waiting for more.

He had forgotten why he was there, however, and he had forgotten his deduction that the bookshelf was a door. It was proven true as it slid out of the way, and Draco was left like a doxie in wandlight, caught in the act of eavesdropping.

"How long have you been listening?" Snape asked urgently. His voice was quiet, which Draco had come to learn meant he was very, very upset. "You already knew too much..."

"I wasn't listening for long," Draco lied. "I couldn't hear anything. I thought I heard noises and I was trying to figure out what it was." He felt his cheeks go hot in shame, but he tried to ignore it.

"A terrible liar, as always, Mr. Malfoy," Snape sighed. "What did I tell you about channeling your Slytherin slyness?" He shook his head and moved to take his seat behind his desk.

Draco grimaced and remembered how his father would always comment on how expressive he was. Perhaps that was the problem. He was too emotive. He took a seat in his own usual chair.

"Now, why are you here instead of in class?" The professor asked him, looking mildly bored. He was probably masking irritation.

"Madam Hooch says I'm in trouble," Draco grumbled. "She wrote you this note." He passed it over to Snape, who took it and set it down on his desk without glancing on it.

"Would you care to tell me what happened?" he asked. "And remember, I will know if you are lying."

Draco suppressed a groan and decided that he would comply. He began to explain the flying class situation, how Nevile had lost control, how Draco had tried to save him.

"How selflessly noble," Snape said dryly. "I'm not sure if your Potter friend is rubbing off on you, or you're still trying to disprove the false notion that you're Dark."

Draco bit his lip and looked away. "I'm sorry, sir." He didn't want to apologize, but he also didn't want to get in trouble again. "I really was just trying to save Neville."

"I'm sure you were," Snape replied, and to Draco's surprise, his lips seemed to curve into a smile. "I don't see any reason to punish you, though I will still read Madam Hooch's assessment."

Draco blinked in surprise. "Sir?" he inquired. Snape always seemd to shock him.

"In fact," the Slytherin Head of House continued, "if your description of your quick flying is entirely true, I would like to suggest that you try out for chaser next year. Our best Quidditch players will be graduating this year."

Draco's shock quickly faded into elation. "Really?" he asked, a grin splitting onto his face. 

"Really," Snape repeated, rolling his eyes. "Now, I suggest you leave my office now. I have a group of third year Gryffindors to teach in twenty minutes, and I believe you have class as well."

Draco nodded quickly, feeling on top of the world. "Yes, sir!" he exclaimed. "I'll see you later today in Potions!"

He darted out of the room, hearing Snape chuckle as he left.

* * *

The rest of that day, Draco had hardly been able to focus. The rest of his classes went smoothly, and Harry congratulated him for his success. Blaise and Theo were in a good mood, too, and Parkinson didn't send one nasty look their way at dinner.

The next day, however, wasn't as wonderful, though not altogether bad. Harry had slept in far too late again and had been late to breakfast, but the Squid had been at the common room window (which was clearly a good omen), and Parkinson hadn't bothered him.

But the porridge was unusally cold, and more gelatinous than usual. And if that wasn't enough to put Draco off, Hermione was glaring at him from the Ravenclaw table. He didn't approach her (he was too scared), and he knew that he would have to face her either in Charms or Herbology. She was probably upset that they hadn't taken up on their promise to her and taken her exploring with them yet.

Harry came in last minute to grab his toast, and they darted off so they wouldn't be late to first period Defense class.

It wasn't until Draco was seated in his chair and frantically trying to remember if he had finished the paper on fire crabs that he remembered hearing Quirrel's conversation with Snape the other day.

Bitterly, he wished that he had remembered before walking into the classroom so he could have told Harry. He forgot his worry about the fire crab paper; he was a one track mind, and Quirrel rarely collected homework anymore as of late.

He had a tremendous amount of trouble focusing in class, as Quirrel stammered on about preparing for upcoming exams, and how there were only a few lessons left. Draco was unnerved how the professor could talk so normally (well, normal for him, with that wretched stutter) about classes while he was diabolically planning to...

To what? To steal the Stone? And try and perform necromancy with it? He knew enough about the Stone to know that it was impossible to raise the dead with it. Quirrel had been focusing on preserving life. His own, perhaps? What had he lost in the War, anyhow?

Draco completely tuned out and pretended to take notes, though he was actually doodling while deep in thought. His hand did what it wanted while his mind spun in circles, trying to decipher what the Stone had to do with anything, what the Professor would want it for...

His train of thought screeched to a halt as he noticed that he had, without completely meaning to, drawn a unicorn. It triggered the memory of the Forbidden Forest, and the blood sucking cloaked creature...

 _And unicorn blood preserves life._ He congratulated his subconscious self for piecing everything together so nicely. Quirrel must have been the one in the forest. He must have donned a cloak to hide himself, and then sought out the creature for its blood.

But that still left gaping holes. He didn't know why Quirrel needed to drink the blood--was he dying?--or the Stone, or why Snape hadn't bothered to completely stop him yet. 

Snape had been trying to stop him, of course. He seemed to be the one involved whenever Quirrel was up to something. He would be the one to set the boys straight, steer them away from Quirrel--

 _Oh, gods._ He thought he might have gagged. _What if Snape is helping Quirrel? Can I even trust him? What about the conversation I heard?_

He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself not to be silly, that he could trust Snape, that he was just being paranoid.

But then why did Snape seem to know everything? And what was all that talk about loyalties?

Draco wanted to scribble out notes on his own thoughts, but he couldn't risk Quirrel seeing it. He wanted to see it in print, to see tangible displays of his thoughts. He needed something to prove what he was saying, or disprove it, or at least show him whether he was crazy or not.

But he was thinking about loyalties, about Light and Dark, about Harry and his scar, about Hagrid and Norbert and the Stone.

Harry's scar almost always led them to trouble. And where was trouble, there was always Quirrel... Or Snape.

And who gave Harry his scar? The Dark Lord. And who was Snape (formerly or not) loyal to? The Dark Lord.

Draco's thoughts were speeding, and he didn't know exactly where they were going, but a stringy explanation was being woven, and he needed to figure things out.

He wasn't so afraid of talking to Hermione anymore. In fact, he thought it would help a lot.

* * *

Herbology and Charms gave him no room for talking, as the professors were all going on about exams and reviews. Draco's thought process had slowed down, but he had begun drawing out pictures to help him remember his discoveries. He would show them to Harry and Hermione in the library after school.

There was the unicorn, a lightning bolt, a stone, and a dragon. Just a few things to remind him where he was going.

Exiting class, he grabbed Hermione, and Harry followed after him.

"Library, as soon as last period's over," he told her. "We're going tonight." 

She almost dropped her books, but she understood, and hurried off to her next period. Harry didn't look as accepting, however.

"When did we decide that?" He sounded more confused than upset.

"I'll explain later," Draco whispered. He wasn't quite ready to tell Harry that their exploration would have to be Quirrel related after all.

He still wasn't quite ready when they had all reconvened in the library, but both Hermione and Harry were watching him with curious gazes. They were in the back corner of the library, where they would mostly be kept alone.

"What's the grand plan?" Harry asked him.

"There isn't one," Draco muttered, reaching into his bag to pull out his drawings. "But there's a theory."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "I do love theories, Draco, but I don't see how that's telling me what we're doing."

Draco took a deep breath, stared at his drawings for a moment, and tried to order his thoughts so he would make sense without vomiting up a chain of incoherent words.

He pointed at the stone. "We know that Quirrel is after the Stone," he said, and pointed to the dragon. "Hagrid was given a dragon by someone who wanted to learn how to get to the Stone."

Harry interrupted him. "Draco, we don't  _know_ these things," he insisted. "We don't know what Quirrel is up to. And what do you mean about the dragon?"

Draco shook his head. "I know all this. I heard Snape and Quirrel talking about it. Anyway--"

"You heard _Snape and Quirrel_ talking about it?" Hermione interjected. "Draco, when?"

"Yesterday," he told them impatiently. "Please, just listen to me. I need to get through this. Then ask questions."

Hermione and Harry exchanged a wary look, but remained silent and allowed Draco to continue.

"The Stone provides eternal life and cures illness." He moved his finger to the unicorn. "Unicorn blood has a similar affect. The centaur said so." His finger moved from the unicorn to the lightning bolt. "Harry's scar hurt when we saw the unicorn. It also hurt when we were in the Fourth Floor, and when Quirrel caught us. Do you follow?"

"No," said Harry.

"Maybe?" Said Hermione.

Draco sighed, feeling like a misunderstood genius. "Do you see how all of these connect?" he asked them.

"They're just random facts, Draco," Hermione murmured. Draco supposed that she wouldn't understand, even if she was smart. She didn't have the memories. He looked pleadingly at Harry, hoping he would make the connection.

"And there was the troll Halloween," Harry said quietly. "And Quirrel and Snape were there, near where the Stone is supposed to be, instead of helping fight it." His eyes seemed to light up with realization.

"Yes, yes!" Draco exclaimed. "I hadn't thought of that." He had all the facts, and he had an inkling of what it meant. He knew how they were all connected. But there was something missing...

Hermione frowned, looking deep in thought. "You're saying all of this has to do with Quirrel." She grabbed the piece of paper and stared at it, suddenly lit by a similar fervor that Draco had been experiencing. "You're saying Quirrel wants the Stone, and he did all those things to get it."

Draco nodded and stared at the drawing of the lightning bolt. He remembered the rest of his theory.

"And he's doing it for the Dark Lord!" He spoke a little louder than he had intended, but the library was empty enough that no one heard him.

Hermione stared at Draco as if he had lost the plot.

"I don't get it," Harry murmured, frowning.

"Quirrel is trying to revive the Dark Lord," Draco reiterated, waiting for them to process.

Harry shook his head. "No, Draco. You've gone mad." He picked up the paper and waved it in the air. "I killed Voldemort. Everyone knows that. He's gone."

"And the Stone only gives life to the living," Hermione added meaningfully.

Draco snatched the paper from Harry. "But what if you didn't kill him? Or what if he's come back to life already, and all he needs is the Stone to come back completely?" 

It was the only explanation. Quirrel had been trying to revive the Dark Lord. And Snape was either involved, or he was trying to stop it. Draco wasn't sure yet.

"That's not an option," Harry replied vehemently. "Voldemort is dead. He has to be. _Everyone knows that."_

"But what if he's not?" Draco insisted. "Father always said he wasn't human enough to really die. Don't you think there's a chance?"

Hermione nodded slowly, catching on at last. "I think he could," she said quietly. "It would make sense, if you really think about it. I wouldn't be surprised if he was after Harry, really."

Harry turned green at that. "Let's just hope his only evil plans are for the Stone."

"And in effect," Draco pointed out, "all of us. Do you believe me now?"

Harry buried his face on the table. "I don't want to, but I do. Should I write my dads about this?"

"No!" Draco hissed. "They'll think we've gone crazy. Or pull you out of school."

"Then what do you want me to do?" Harry demanded, looking miserable.

"We need proof," Hermione cut in. "Or at least we need to know more. Right, Draco?"

"Right," he agreed. "Which is why we're going exploring on the Fourth Floor. Tonight."

Harry let out a loud sigh. "You're insane," he murmured. "But let's do it. And not get caught this time, okay?"

Hermione snorted. "That would be ideal. I would hate to be expelled."

Draco smirked. "I'm glad you can both agree."

"Only because I'm fairly certain you've manipulated me into doing this," Harry replied bitterly. 

Draco smirked at him teasingly.

"Welcome to Slytherin, Potter." 

* * *

Harry and Draco snuck out as early as they could without arousing the suspicion of their dormmates. Luckily, everyone was going to bed earlier than normal. Even the first years were affected by the oncoming exam fervor, and studying had worn them out.

Not Draco and Harry, though. They were awake and alert when they slipped out of the common room. They made their way up to the Ravenclaw Tower, and they were both surprised and relieved to find Hermione waiting for them outside. She was huddled against the door, looking absolutely terrified.

"Is that how you got caught last time?" Harry asked her.

"Where else should I be?" she whispered, getting up to join them.

"This is fine for us," Draco told her. "Now, let's get to the Fourth Floor."

They didn't follow Harry's scar that time, but Harry seemed to have a good idea of where he was going. Draco recognized several paintings that they passed.

He wondered for a brief moment if the paintings were on their side or the teachers', and if they would snitch them out. He thought that, given the chance, it would be a good idea to befriend some of them. It would be good for peace of mind.

Time seemed to fly past him, and soon they were at the vaguely-familiar fourth floor without any trouble or excitement. It was a bit anticlimatic, really. Draco had spent the entire day worrying about evil plots and Dark Lords, and the hallway was empty and quiet.

"What are we going to do now?" Hermione hissed, looking rather disappointed. And nervous.

"See what Quirrel's been poking around for," Draco answered, looking around for the door he had seen the professor approaching Halloween night.

"The Stone, you mean," Harry said dryly.

"Or wherever it's hidden," Draco added. "I think it's this way." 

Hermione followed close behind him, muttering about half-baked plans and Slytherins who acted like Gryffindors.

"I heard that," Harry growled, "and we're not acting like Gryffindors."

"This is purely self preservation," Draco piped up.

Hermione rolled her eyes and stopped as they stood in front of the inconspicuous wooden door. "Is this it?" she questioned. "You wouldn't know it was forbidden if not for the lock. What do you two plan to do about that?"

Draco grabbed the door handle and found that it was indeed locked. "No locked door is too locked for me!" He proclaimed excitedly. He smirked in satisfaction as it unlocked.

"You mean Quirrel's office has better protection than the Stone?" Harry scoffed. "That doesn't worry me at all."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione groaned. "Let's just go in and get this over with. I can't believe I agreed to this."

"Nervous, Granger?" Draco asked with a smirk. He didn't let it be seen that his hand was quivering as he gripped the cool bronze door handle.

She just glowered at him and yanked his hand away. She pulled the door open and held it slightly ajar, and she slipped inside. Draco and Harry followed in after her silently.

Behind the door, it was again rather anticlimatic. In fact, it was pitch dark. Draco couldn't see a thing. He felt Harry's and Hermione's warm presences, and he heard their breathing.

Rahter loud breathing, in fact. He bet it was Hermione, being nervous. 

"Bit dark in here, isn't it?" Harry muttered. He grabbed onto Draco's hand, and Draco clung back.

" _Lumos,"_ Hermione said, and all of a sudden, the corridor was no longer dark.

And Draco realized that the breathing hadn't been Hermione's.

There was a large, black, three-headed dog curled up at the other end of the corridor. It was fast asleep, breathing loudly from each of its heads. 

Draco bit back a scream and stared at his friends, making sure they were silent, too. He gestured towards the door, and they all scrambled to get out as fast as they could. The dog didn't wake up.

"What was that?" Hermione demanded as soon as they were that. "Did you know about that, Malfoy?"

"No!" Draco cried, clamping a hand over his mouth as he realized how loud he had been. "I mean, I overheard something about a beast, but..."

Harry was tugging on his hand, and they were hurrying to leave the floor.

"Well, at least the Stone's safe," he grumbled. "I can't imagine Quirrel getting past that."

Draco coughed uneasily and took Hermione's disapproving glance in stride.

"I think he might be able to," he confessed, already feeling nervous as he said it. "I heard Snape mention it. He got Hagrid to tell him."

"What?" Harry demanded, ripping his hand from Draco's and turning to look at him in shock and horror.

"We'll have to talk with Hagrid," Hermione decided, seeming to be the least terrified out of the three of them in that moment.

Harry just groaned loudly and began to stumble back down the stairs.

"Voldemort is coming back, and we're all going to die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the end, in case you couldn't tell. Two or three more chapters yet, and then we're on to book two! I'm very excited.  
> Also, feel free to check out In Like A Lion. It's basically Sirius and Remus coping with the Potter's death, raising Harry, and Dumbledore's bullshit. It's essentially a prequel to this, and it's in the works. Shouldn't be too long, though.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to stop Quirrel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just did some major editing on the entire story, as well as some of my other ones. It turns out that I've been punctuating wrong. It's "What?" he asked; not, "What?" He asked. Same for exclamation points.  
> I feel silly. But, hey, you learn something new every day!

Draco wasn't entirely sure how he managed to keep his head on in those next weeks. He couldn't look Quirrel or Snape in the eye, and both he and Harry were paranoid that a Dark Lord was going to jump out at them from around every corner. It was terrible, really.

He somehow managed to study for his exams, though, and he had even gotten a decent amount of sleep to boot.

Harry, on the other hand, wasn't so stable. He wasn't writing Padfoot and Moony about it; he said he was too scared to. And, there was always the chance that they were being paranoid, and he didn't want to risk it.

"Not to mention, what if Quirrel--or Snape, even--intercepts the letter?" Draco wondered aloud. "Then we'd certainly be dead. The Dark Lord would know we're on to him."

"Don't even say that," Harry groaned. "This is terrifying enough as it is."

And it was terrifying. Every bit of Draco wanted to go and tell the nearest responsible adult everything they had come up with, but who was there to tell? He no longer trusted Snape, and he doubted Dumbledore or anyone else would believe a word that came out of his mouth, even if Harry vouched for him.

His Slytherin self-preservation kept kicking in, too. He reasoned that the longer he kept quiet, and the less people that found out, the less likely he was to get kicked out or murdered. 

There was also the issue of the giant, sleeping, three-headed dog, which Draco was certain would give him nightmares for the rest of his life. He and Harry hadn't yet gone to Hagrid because they knew he was always suspecting they were up to something. Maybe it was because he knew Harry well, or maybe it was because they were Slytherins.

Hermione had the foresight to visit him, though. He trusted her, after all. She was a Ravenclaw, and of course  _Ravenclaws_ never did anything wrong (yes, Draco was slightly bitter about it). She ended up extracting the information that the dog's name was Fluffy, and yes, the person who had given him the dragon had found out how to get past him.

"How'd you get him to talk?" Harry demanded. "I thought be would be closed up about it."

Hermione shrugged. "He didn't even realize what he was saying, I think. My questions were casual enough."

"Slytherin!" Draco proclaimed. "You are a Slytherin, Hermione, and I don't know why you even bother with the other Ravenclaws."

"Wit can get you just as many places as cunning," she countered. "And I'll have you know, the Hat wanted to put me into Gryffindor before anything else. But I thought Ravenclaw would be a better fit."

Both Draco and Harry gaped at her.

"But you're the least brash of the three of us!" Draco cried incredulously. She didn't act nearly as Gryffindor as Harry, who always jumped into everything without thinking. Hermione definitely thought about things before doing them.

She rolled her eyes. "Being stupid isn't a Gryffindor thing. In fact, I think it's more of a boy thing."

That had shut them both us, blushing furiously and feeling flustered. That had pressed Draco to study even harder for his exams. He would show her. He wasn't stupid.

But Harry couldn't seem to focus. He was constantly rubbing his scar, and seemed more out of sorts than usual. He told Draco privately that he had eventually caved in and written his dads about all the headaches. They had been gravely concerned, and even assured him that they had spoken to Dumbledore about the Hagrid situation, as well as the Stone.

"You mean, they  _know?"_ Draco demanded. "And no one's  _done_ anything?"

Harry frowned and nodded in confirmation. "Dumbledore seems to think he's got everything under control. So, we've got nothing to worry about." He didn't seem to believe his own words, though. He was still uneasy.

"Well, what about your scar?" Draco asked. "Is there any explanation for that?"

Harry rubbed at it absently. "No," he admitted. "But I bet it's got to do with Voldemort. It's a curse wound, you know."

Not one to know much about curse wounds, Draco didn't add anything else. But he was still worried, and he got concerned every time he saw Harry touch his scar.

* * *

Exams were upon them all at once, and Draco pulled through. He was confident that he got top marks on most of them, sans History of Magic, which he had admittedly slept through for most of the year. And when he hadn't, the only notes he'd made were drawings he couldn't bother to decipher.

There were a lot of goblins, though, so he wrote his essay about that. It ended up being more of a creative writing piece, though, and he thought that mother would be proud of it if she were ever to read it. He doubted the poor soul grading it would feel the same, though.

He was eternally grateful that the exam proctors weren't the professors, or else he wouldn't have been able to focus. He would have been to busy worrying about Snape or Quirrel.

But when the exams were over, they were over, and Draco allowed himself a few blissful hours of not worrying about anything. Not grades, not Voldemort, not even Harry and his scar.

In fact, he didn't know where Harry was. He had disappeared after the last exam, and Draco had gone back to the common room with Theo and Blaise. They were by the window in the common room, peering out into the dark water to see if they could spot the Squid.

"If you see the Squid, it means you passed all your exams," Draco proclaimed. "And if you see a mermaid, it means you failed at least one. A fish means you passed your favorite subject, but if you see two, it means you failed that same one."

"What makes you say that?" Blaise sounded skeptical, but he was already staring out eagerly into the window for results.

"I read it in a book," Draco fibbed. "Slytherin lore. You know." He tried to bite back laughter. Blaise most certainly believed him. Draco loved spinning his tall tales. It was even better when people believed him.

Theo rolled his eyes. "I didn't know you enjoyed Divination, Malfoy." He snickered at him, but still stared out the window just as raptly as Blaise did.

Draco leaned back and smirked. Maybe he would like Divination, if he could get people to believe him like this. It seemed right down his alley. Stories that got everyone's attention.

He was going to make another smart remark, maybe point out a fish that wasn't there, but Harry burst into the common room. He looked terribly distressed, and he was breathing heavily. 

Draco sprung to his feet to meet him. 

"What's the matter?" he asked urgently. He didn't even notice Blaise and Theo's confused looks. Something was clearly wrong with Harry, and that was what was important.

"Quirrel," Harry said quietly, his voice just above a whisper. "I think he's going to do it tonight."

"Tonight?" Draco gasped. He took Harry by the arm and dragged him to a quiet corner. "What do you mean? How do you know?"

 "I overheard Quirrel talking to... to someone. Himself, I don't know. He said he's going to do it tonight." 

"Did you go to a teacher?" Draco asked earnestly. He doubted it would do anything. No one would believe their story, he had already decided that.

"Yes, I did," Harry replied, a bit of a scowl forming on his face. "McGonagall. She didn't believe me."

"What about Dumbledore?" Draco demanded. Of all his teachers, the Headmaster was the one he trusted most at that time. After all, he had grown up knowing him, and he had been kind to his family.

Harry bit his lip and stared at his feet. "That's the problem," he said gravely. "Dumbledore's gone. Went off to deal with something."

"So, it has to be tonight, then," Draco breathed, feeling terrified. "This is no good. The Dark Lord is going to--"

"Stop being ridiculous," Harry snapped, interrupting him. "We're goint to stop him."

"Oh, gods, Harry. I think you're the one being ridiculous." Draco felt slightly faint. Him and Harry? Stopping the Dark Lord? Impossible. It wouldn't work. They were only first years.

"Who else is going to do anything?" Harry demanded, looking both terrified and bold.

"It's not our job, Harry. You're acting like a Gryffindor."

"Aren't you the one who's been insisting we spy on Quirrel all this time? Didn't you want to snoop around on the Fourth Floor? Weren't you the one who figured it all out?" Harry's questions came out in rapid, scathing succession.

Shrinking back, Draco nodded sullenly. "But that's all a bit different than  _fighting the Dark Lord._ It goes against every self-serving fiber of my being." 

"Well, letting the Dark Lord return wouldn't exactly be preserving ourselves, would it?" Harry demanded, a sharp glint in his eye. "Come on, Draco. We have to do something."

Draco grimaced, realizing the difference between him and Harry. Draco could talk the talk and think he was as brave as anyone else, but in the end, it was Harry who stuck to his bravery to the end. 

But they were both Slytherins, and Harry was his best friend, and Draco wasn't going to abandon him.

"Let's do it."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and pulled him into a quick hug. "Good," he laughed faintly, "because Hermione already agreed, and I wasn't leaving you behind."

"Hermione?" Draco wondered aloud. "That makes no sense."

* * *

After dinner, they waited anxiously in their dorm until everyone else fell asleep. They were ansty, ready to go, visions of Voldemort already filling their heads.

Soon, though, it was nearing eleven o' clock, and the others had begun to quiet down.

"Let's go." Draco heard Harry's voice whisper at him through the curtains, and in a moment, they were both springing out of their beds, their shoes on and fully dressed.

As they were darting out, though, Draco ran into a solid mass of flesh. Panicking, he looked up. 

It was Gregory Goyle.

"Where are you going, traitor?" he demanded, his voice lowering to a hiss. "Gone to sneak out again, have you? I heard you lost us a lot of points last time."

Draco blinked in terror. He had never heard Goyle speak more than a few words at a time. He knew that their families no longer agreed after the war, but the contempt filling the other boy's voice was dreadful.

"Out of the way, Goyle," Draco snapped back. He was trying to sound tough, but he couldn't quite muster it. He was shaking, and his voice was quiet, and he was already full enough of nerves to be intimidated by the hulking figure that was Goyle.

"Not happening," snarled Goyle.

"Pity," Harry grumbled, drawing his wand.  _"Petrificus totalus."_

And then, Goyle was frozen in place, and he dropped to the floor with a nasty  _thump._ Draco eyed Harry warily, not having known he was capable of that kind of agression.

"Come on," Harry insisted, beginning to dart down the stairs. A little dazed, and very impressed, Draco hurried after him. They were out of the Slytherin common room in a matter of minutes without anymore trouble.

Hermione was meeting them at the base of Ravenclaw Tower, which would save them a considerable amount of time. From there, it wasn't far from the staircase to the Fourth Floor.

There was only one problem, though.

When they arrived at the spot, they saw Hermione cowering on the floor. Above her, Peeves was cackling and tossing down more of his color bombs. That was sure to raise suspicion. Even worse, though, was his shouting.

"Firstie, firstie! Firstie out of bed!" He splatted something purple that just barely missed Hermione. She whimpered, looking more scared than Draco had ever seen her.

"What do we do?" Harry whispered urgently. "You're the one with the plans."

"You're the one who can petrify!" Draco protested. He had no idea what to do.

"Oohhh, I think I'll get Filch! See what he does to this firstie!" Peeves was flying maniacally around in circles above them now, thankfully not having noticed Draco or Harry yet.

Before they could be pained any further to try and come up with a plan, they were nearly startled to death by a voice they hadn't heard since Halloween.

"Peeves," the Bloody Baron growled, "leave that one alone."

Harry and Draco looked at each other with shocked expressions as Peeves froze in terror, and the Baron rose in front of Hermione, almost in defense.

Peeves squealed an apology and flew away. Draco and Harry immediately ran for Hermione, and the Baron stood there paitently, looking as friendly as Hogwart's most terrifying ghost could possibly look.

"Go," the Baron instructed. "I know you have important work to do." And in a flash, he was gone.

"That was terrifying," whispered Hermione.

Draco laughed nervously. "I guess he's been looking out for us."

"No kidding." Harry walked over to Hermione and put a hand on her shoulder. "You alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine." She set her jaw and began walking. "Come on; we have to get there before Quirrel."

They couldn't argue with that, of course, and soon they were taking that same, almost-familiar path back up to the Fourth Floor. 

"How do we get past Fluffy?" Draco asked Hermione once they started getting closer. "You said you talked to Hagrid."

"I did," she replied, huffing a little as she bounded up a few steps to catch up. "It's quite simple, really. He said it likes music."

Draco wasn't sure how that was supposed to help, but he wasn't about to question her.

"Do we have an instrument?" Harry asked nervously. "I don't see any."

Hermione made a frustrated noise. "I couldn't find one," she admitted. "But we'll be okay. Won't we?" She sounded uncertain, and they all felt uneasy after that. 

Draco's onlt thought was that he hoped Hermione could sing, because he wasn't very confident in his own abilities, and he knew from experience that Harry was a shit singer.

But it was too late to go back. They were at the door to the corridor in a few minutes flat, and they were on a timer. Soon, Quirrel would get to the Stone.

In a burst of courage, it was Draco who opened the door. He tried not to think of the nightmare within, just of the good deed that he was about to do.

If they could get past Fluffy.

The beast was still asleep, thank the gods. Maybe they could just sneak past it...

Draco urged them on with a jerk of his head, and they crept down the passageway. They saw something glinting in the darkness, and with a surge of relief, Draco realized it was a harp.

Draco could play a harp better than he could sing. He held a finger to his lips and crept over to the harp. He was focused solely on that, and didn't realize what was the matter with Harry and Hermione when they began waving their hands frantically. 

He picked up the harp and began to play, focusing on his mother's lessons from gods-knew how long ago. He plucked at the strings, one by one, and when he finally looked up, he saw the dog--disturbingly close--with it's eyes drooping shut.

His heart hammering in anxiety, he and his friends hurried to get to the open hole in the floor that had been where the dog was sleeping. 

Not stopping with the harp, he whispered, "Do we just jump in?"

"I'm afraid so." Harry stared down into the darkness, looking rather terrified.

Hermione let out a long breath. "I'll go," she announced. Before they could stop her, she jumped down. There was a quiet thud, and then, she said, "I'm alright! Come down. There's soft plants."

Her voice jarred Fluffy awake, and Draco dropped the harp as they both jumped down in a panic. They landed in a soft-ish tangle of vines, where Hermione was waiting.

"Let's go," she urged, getting up to move.

Draco froze, and in the dim light, he noticed that a vine was coiled around her leg. "Careful," he advised. "You've been snagged."

She looked down at her feet, then at theirs. A horrified expression dawned on her face. "So are you," she breathed.

Then, all at once, vines were lashing out on all of their limbs and holding them in place. Both Draco and Harry's arms were bound, but Hermione's were free. They began to thrash in panic.

"Hold still!" Hermione exclaimed. "You'll just aggravate them." She looked mortified, and she was nearly on the verge of tears. But both Draco and Harry stilled. She still didn't look any less panicked. "What am I supposed to do? Burn them? How do I burn them?"

"Hermione!" Draco snapped. "Think. Use  _Incendio!"_

She suddenly snapped to attention just as a vine was lunging for her arm, but she was on time as she warded it off with a burst of flame. In a few moments, she had burnt off the vines entangling Draco and Harry as well.

They all rushed to leave the plants before they could attack them again. They began towards a rocky, damp passageway, and Draco wondered for a moment if they were underground. Hadn't they just been several floors up? They hadn't dropped that low.

His thoughts were interrupted by a strange clinking.

"What's that?" Harry asked warily as the passageway came to an end. They entered a large, tall chamber. 

The clinking was coming from... were they birds? Draco couldn't tell. They filled the air, hundreds of them, flying around in front of a tall wooden door.

"Keys," Hermione whispered. "They're keys."

Draco squinted and realized that they _were_ keys. All identical, shining, silver keys. 

"Well, then let's grab one," he suggested. "It will probably get us through that door."

Harry took a step forward, looking enraptured by the display. "No," he breathed, lifting a hand into the air. "Look. That one."

Draco looked up, and saw there was one key larger than the rest. Shinier, too. He just didn't know how they were supposed to get it. Perplexed, he focused on watching it. He didn't even notice Harry start running, until he had taken a broom Draco hadn't noticed and was suddenly in the air.

Draco had flown with Harry when they were younger. He knew that Harry was exceptional at it (though he never admitted it to him), but he didn't see how Harry could possibly hope to catch that one key out of the swarm.

But Harry was often impossible, and he seeemed to know exactly where it was. Draco watched in amazement, a unique feeling filling him as Harry zipped around in the air. 

When Harry caught the key (in excellent timing), Draco couldn't help but whoop.

"Nice job, Potter!" he proclaimed, as Harry drifted to the ground, key in hand and a triumphant look plastered on his face.

"Brilliant, Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. "Now, let's open that door."

The key fit perfectly, and soon the door was groaning open to allow them passage into the next room.

It was dark there, and as they stepped forward, they were blinded by a bright light. It filled the room, revealing that the floor was nothing but a giant chess board. Upright pieces, black and white, stood taller than any of the three first years.

Draco felt his mouth go dry. "I have a dreadful feeling that we can't just run through," he murmured.

"No," Hermione agreed. "But I'm terrible at chess."

"That's alright," Harry assured her, walking up to stand next to Draco. "Moony taught Draco and I. We're pretty good, aren't we?"

Draco smiled half-heartedly. Harry was one of the worst chess-players that Draco had ever encountered, but it wasn't the time to break that to him. 

"I'll tell you two what to do, alright? Considering I always win."

Both Hermione and Harry agreed. 

"Alright," he said carefully, licking his lips. "Harry, you be the queen, okay?" He pointed to where the figure was poised at the back of the board.

"Isn't that dangerous?" he demanded, looking at it nervously. "They'll want to go for me first."

"But you'll be able to move essentially however you want, and it will get you across the board easier," Draco pointed out. "And I'll protect you." He couldn't help but grin at the role reversal.

Harry grimaced, but he moved to take his spot. The queen moved gracefully out of the way.

"And Hermione, you be that rook, okay? You can only move in straight lines. And try to stay fairly close to Harry."

She swallowed nervously, but complied. The rook also slid out of the way for her.

Draco eyed the other rook and took its position. He began directing his friends across the board. They all became much more nervous when they saw one of the first pieces get smashed as it got thrown of the board.

"Don't let that happen to me!" Harry cried desperately.

"Not a chance!" Draco called back. "Now, take two moves to the left." He felt a little brash, moving his queen like that, but he thought that they weren't playing to win.

They just needed to get across the board.

Hermione made it first, running in a straight line to the other side. Draco would have been able, too, but he wasn't going anywhere until Harry made it off.

He narrowly saved him from getting crushed by an enemy knight, but he was off the board, and Draco was home free. He gratefully ran the last couple of steps, not realizing how terrified he had been until he was off the board.

He looked over his shoulder and watched his side get demolished by the other pieces.

 _Worst game of chess ever,_ he thought.

He went through the door where his friends had already gone.

"...that last one was McGonagall's, I bet. So that leaves Snape... and Quirrel." Hermione was explaining something to Harry, who was frowning in concentration.

"What's that?" asked Draco.

"Each of these have been done by a different professor," Hermione summarized. "These last two will probably be the worst." 

They all looked at each other for a long moment, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. They had already been through enough; two more seemed unbearable.

Once they had all had a moment, they locked eyes.

"Let's go," said Harry. He turned around and they walked to one more door. He opened it hesitantly, expecting the worst.

They were hit by a putrid odor, and they all covered their noses with their sleeves as they cautiously entered. It was more naturally lit than the other rooms, and it was quiet.

There was a troll on the ground, and it was so big Draco would have thought it was a giant. Thankfully, it was collapsed on the floor, unconscious, and was sporting a large, bleeding bump on the top of its head.

"Bet this was Quirrel's defense," he muttered bitterly. "That dungeon troll was probably his, too. Reckon it was a distraction."

Hermione huffed. "If it was, I wonder how none of the teachers saw a connection."

"I think they did," Draco replied, "but they didn't think to do anything about it. Snape knew all along."

"You think Dumbledore did, too?" asked Harry warily.

"Doesn't matter." Draco grunted as he began to walk further into the foul smelling room. "What matters is that we're not fighting a troll. Come on."

They all opened the next door, which would lead to Snape's defense.

It was nothing particularly frightening. Looming in the darkness was a table with seven bottles. Once they stepped closer, however, a fire sprung up behind them. Bright purple and unnatural, it set Draco's nerves off. Even worse, though, was the black flames already flickering on the other side.

There was a piece of parchment on the table, and Hermione went towards it. She read it and knit her eyebrows in the way that she always seemed to do.

"What's it say?" Draco inquired.

A smile crept onto Hermione's lips. "It's a logic puzzle," she told them, looking up and displaying a full-on grin. "This is something I can do. Leave it to me."

Draco smirked and exchanged a knowing glance with Harry.

"Ravenclaws," he snickered.

Harry smiled and grabbed his hand, out of the blue. Draco, a little surprised, raised his eyebrows.

"Almost there," Harry whispered, as if in explanation. "I'm a bit frightened, you know. About going through there. What if Voldemort's there?"

Draco knew what he meant. Nerves were making his own stomach flutter. He was scared, too.

So, he did what would make them both feel better. He pulled Harry into a tight hug, resting his chin on the shorter boy's shoulder.

"You've got us," he reminded him. "We'll stick by you."

Harry held him tight, and Draco imagined he could feel Harry's smile radiate off of him.

"Hey, you saps," Hermione interrupted cheerfully. "I've figured it out, though I'm afraid it's not ideal."

Draco pulled away from Harry, frowning nervously. "What is it?"

"The smallest bottle will get one through the black fire," she explained, "but there's not enough for all of us." 

Harry swallowed, but stepped forward and took the bottle. "I'll go," he said, his voice almost cracking as he said it.

"Whoa, there!" Draco tried to snatch the bottle from Harry. "Who said you have to be the hero here? I'm the one who's been after Quirrel this entire time. You can't leave me out now."

Hermione laughed. The sound was strange in the tense atmosphere of the room.

"I guess I'll take the other potion and head back."

Draco turned to face her, suddenly feeling bad. "We need you, too, Hermione."

"But there's hardly enough potion for the two of us, let alone three," Harry remarked, picking the bottle up to inspect it. He met Hermione's gaze and put a hand on her shoulder. "You can go back and owl Dumbledore. Take the broom I used in the key room to get out the trap door and past Fluffy. Hedwig's in the owlery--you've seen her. Just tell Dumbledore everything." 

She nodded intensely, biting her lip. She quickly grabbed the potion she needed, and wrapped Harry in a quick hug.

"Take care." She drank the potion, and then ran through the flames.

Draco watched her go, suddenly feeling numb. "This is it," he said, joining Harry. "How do we get back now that she's taken the potion?"

"Doesn't matter now," said Harry, seeming to be having one of his Gryffindor moments. "Let's just drink this and go." He uncorked the bottle, and took Draco by the chin. He poured some of it into his mouth, and then swallowed the rest for himself. 

Draco immediately felt overwhelmed by ice. He felt Harry take his hand, and they were going through the black flame. It licked at them, but they hardly felt it. For a few paces, there was nothing but the flame, but soon they were in an open chamber.

And there was Quirrel, just as they had expected.

No Snape, no Voldemort.

_Well, this might just be easier than I thought._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything but the epilogue has been written out. Thanks again for reading!
> 
> Also, Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. For those of you with problematic families, I hope you made it out okay, and if you still have to put up with it for a few days, best of luck to you!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Voldemort and Quirrel meet their end.

Quirrel turned around abruptly to face them, a smirk immediately drawing on his face.

"Somehow, I knew it would be you two," he said. His voice was steady. Calculated. No stuttering now.

"Quirrel," Draco snarled. "We knew it was you all along!" His voice cracked halfway through, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Actually, not really," Harry murmured, but Draco just elbowed him. Quirrel laughed at them.

"You did, did you?" he asked them. "It looks like my ruse failed, then. I thought you might be more suspicious of Severus." 

"He didn't have anything to do with this, did he?" Draco demanded, trying to sound tough. As usual, though, he failed miserably.

"Of course not," Quirrel answered, taking a short step towards them. "He's seemed to have lost himself to the Light. He's been trying to protect you all along, to stop  _me"_ \--he let out a sharp bark of laughter--"but you've seen how well that worked. Because here you are."

"You can't hurt us!" Harry drew his wand and pointed it at Quirrel, his jaw set with determination.

"Oh, please," Quirrel huffed, "you may be clever, Potter, but you're clearly not  _smart._ You're just a little boy. _Of course_ I can hurt you." There was a certain malice to his tone, and his voice went high and sharp. 

This was seeming less and less like the Quirrel that Draco knew, but he was just as suspicious. 

"You won't, though," Harry insisted, his voice shaking. Draco thought he might have been depending on Quirrel being the same, squirrely professor they had grown to mock.

But Draco wasn't counting on that. He still saw the shady, suspicious Quirrel he always had. And now that he knew everything he had done--the troll, the unicorn, the dragon--he knew he had a reason to be afraid.

"Oh, but I  _will!"_ Quirrel exclaimed. He flicked his wand, and ropes sprung out of thin air, binding Draco and Harry on the spot. Quirrel walked up to the two of them and breathed in their faces, reeking of garlic.

"And I'm going to kill you tonight," he continued, speaking as one might mention their casual evening plans. "You two have really been too nosy this year. Always in my way; you've seemed to have caught me in  _every single act._ It's just been totally unfair." He paced back and forth, a manical expression on his face.

Draco realized that he was serious, that he was plotting to kill them, that they were in serious danger. Fear clenched in his chest, and he grabbed at Harry's hand from between the ropes. He found it, and they both clutched tightly.

Then, Draco summoned his inner Slytherin and decided to do what he did every time he and Harry got caught. He was going to talk, and he was going to distract, and he was going to stall.

"So, you were the one who let the troll in, weren't you?" he queried. "And you were in the forest, drinking unicorn blood. I wonder why you needed to do that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Quirrel growled, spinning on his heel to point his wand at Draco's throat. "But I must focus, Malfoy spawn. Keep your mouth shut while I examine this mirror."

It wasn't until then that Draco noticed the mirror. It was that same wretched mirror that Harry had taken him to, that same lying piece of glass. He couldn't see anything in it now, but he had a feeling that it was important. He wondered how it had gotten there...

Harry squeezed Draco's hand, and they came to a nonverbal understanding. They had to keep Quirrel from the mirror.

"You've been trying to get in here all year, haven't you?" Harry blurted. "And Snape's been on to you. Why hasn't he been able to stop you yet?"

Quirrel scowled at them as he looked over his shoulder. "Incompetence, I'm sure. Not many stand a chance against my master and I."

Draco's eyes widened at the word "master." He had a bad feeling he knew what that meant.

"But we're only eleven, and we've matched you well so far!" Draco cried out, trying to get the wicked professor's attention.

"And look at you now! Tied up in ropes." Quirrel snickered at his work. "Besides, Potter has always been a special case, haven't you, scarface?"

Both Harry and Draco cringed at the misuse of the nickname they had used teasingly for years.

"Now... All I see here is presenting the Stone to my master... But how do I get to it?" He pressed his fingers to the mirror, but nothing happened. He hissed in frustration.

Harry coughed loudly. "I heard you talking to someone today. Sobbing, nearly. Who was it?"

Quirrel sighed in exasperation, but he looked unsettled. "My Master, of course. Sometimes, I am weak, and I would hate to disappoint him..." His head hung low in shame.

Draco bit his tongue, but then decided to speak. "Your Master was there? And Harry saw him?" He felt Harry stiffen beside him.

"He is always with me." Quirrel turned to look at them, and a bright smile lit on his face. "He guides me, he orders me, he teaches me. I was lost before I found him, but he taught me how to see this world the way it is--as a balance of power, not morals." He laughed, looking like a girl besotted. "He is very powerful. He is always there. I will serve him well." He turned around immediately to stare at the mirror again.

"He's crazy," Harry whispered. 

"I bet being around a Dark Lord will do that to you," Draco replied nervously. He didn't want to think about where the Dark Lord was now... Possibly in this room.

"Is it in the mirror?" Quirrel asked. "Merlin, it's in the mirror.... Do I break it?"

And it was at that moment when Draco had his epiphany. What he had seen in the mirror was something that he had wanted, though it was unbidden. He realized that the mirror might work in the same way now.

He thought he might be able to see where the Stone was if he looked into it. If only he just moved...

Harry seemed to be having the same thoughts, and they both toppled to the floor.

"Master!" Quirrel cried. "What do I do?"

Draco waited in anticipation, hoping that nothing would answer, hoping that Quirrel would indeed just be crazy, and all of Draco's speculations had been a load of hippogriff teeth. It wasn't so, however.

Chills traveled down his spine as he heard the voice speak.

_"The boys know... Use them...."_

Quirrel eyed them suspiciously. "Not them both, my Lord. They will be stronger together. Which one do I take?"

A disembodied laugther filled the room, and it was like every nightmare Draco had ever had as a child. 

" _Take the Malfoy boy_ ," the voice laughed. " _If he's anything like his father, he will be a most_ pliable _servant."_

Draco stiffened at the insult. Neither he nor his father were  _pliable servants._ But he was surprised as Quirrel clapped, and the ropes around him disappeared, leaving Harry alone in the ropes. He squeezed his hand one last time before standing up.

"Come here, Malfoy," Quirrel hissed. "Come help me."

Draco scowled as he moved towards Quirrel. He did his best not to freeze as the mirror came into view, and he did not see the same thing he saw last time.

He saw Harry, and he was standing free, the Stone in his hand. The mirror Harry winked at him and slipped the hand into a pocket.

 _Strange,_ Draco thought,  _but I musn't tell the truth. Which won't be hard._

Draco was excellent at spinning tall tales.

"Yes, yes," Quirrel muttered. "Come here, that's right. What do you see, Malfoy?"

Draco made a show of squinting at the mirror. "Not my reflection, sir," he answered. Every good lie must have some truth, and that was it. Mirror Harry grinned at him as though he was doing well.

"In fact, I see both Harry and myself," he elaborated, and then chose to draw on a memory for inspiration. "We're by the lake. We're holding hands."

He heard Harry make a surprised grunt, and Quirrel cursed.

"Short sighted first years," he hissed. "Get out of the way." He clapped his hands again, and Harry's ropes were released as well. He scrambled to his feet, one hand shoved in his pocket.

Draco met his gaze, and somehow he knew that Harry had the stone.

" _Let me speak to them..."_ the voice growled. " _Both of them. They know something."_

Draco stiffened in fear, and he could only assume Harry felt the same.

"Master, you are not ready!"

 _"I am ready!_ " The voice sounded louder, and it was harsh like a bark. " _Show them to me._ " 

Quirrel made a whimpering noise, and then he began to do something very strange. He didn't perform some summoning ritual, or a spell, or anything else. He simply turned around, and gingerly began to unwrap his turban.

Draco couldn't help it. He screamed when he saw what was revealed.

The turban drifted gracefully down to the ground, showing off a greusome extra face on the back of Quirrel's head. It was wrinkled and foul, its lips bit into a sneer.

"Harry Potter... And Malfoy," it said. "What an unusual pair. How the world has changed since I left." Its lips moved unnaturally as it spoke. It was definitely not meant to be part of Quirrel's body.

"Once, I was powerful. You would be bowing to me, or you would be dead. And yet, now I must live in the shadows. A parasite--"

"You are not a parasite, my Lord!" squawked Quirrel, interrupting his master.

The face, which was clearly Voldemort, ignored him completely.

"I have sustained myself off of unicorn blood for months now, living close to the edge... Surely, you understand why I need the Stone, the Elixir of Life. Do you sympathize, Malfoy?" The face of the Dark Lord sneered at Draco.

Draco didn't know what to say, put there on the spot. "There is not much to have sympathy for," he murmured. How could he pity a thing so horrid?

The face laughed. "Of course not. Malfoys do not sympathize, do they? No, you are not weak like Potter... like his parents, who died begging for mercy..."

Harry flinched, and he looked as though he were about to protest, but the Dark Lord continued speaking.

"No, Malfoy, you're like your father. You're powerful, aren't you? But you could have more power if you would just give me the Stone that's in your pocket... Come now, Malfoy...."

Draco stiffened. The Stone was not in his pocket. He had succeeded in tricking him, then. Now was his chance. 

He gave Harry a look, and then began walking towards Quirrel and his two-faced head. "Of course," he said, hoping Harry knew that  _he_ was the one with the Stone. "But only if you let Harry go."

"No!" Harry cried. "I can't leave you!"

Draco didn't even look over his shoulder as he said, "Don't be a hero, Potter. Take what you _have_ and leave."

Then, Voldemort laughed, and Quirrel turned around and smiled at him. "Come, now. Give me the Stone."

It was at that moment that Harry began to run for the flames to escape, and Draco reached into his empty pocket. Quirrel was watching him like a rabid dog would watch a piece of raw meat.

Once Draco was sure Harry was a safe distance away, he shrugged innocently at Quirrel. "Looks like it's gone," he said, showing his empty palm. Then, he turned tail and ran after Harry.

Voldemort began to scream, " _Stop him! Seize him!"_ but Draco just kept running. 

He was halted, though, when he bumped into another hurtling mass of flesh. It was Harry. They both fell to the ground.

"You idiot!" Draco screeched, realizing that Harry had come back for him. "I was _fine_!" He tried to get to his feet, but it was too late.

Quirrel had tackled them both. 

"Which one of you-- _aaarrrhghhh!"_ He broke off into a scream as he pulled away. The hand that had touched Harry was blistering, and Quirrel had collapsed onto the ground, screaming. 

Draco clambered to standing position and pulled Harry up, too. They began to make a break for it before Quirrel regained himself. The Dark Lord was screaming for Quirrel to catch them, to kill them, but his servant was evidently preoccupied.

They were startled just before they reached the flames by a sharp  _crack!_ that sounded suspiciously like Apparition. Draco turned his head and slowed to a stop.

Dumbledore was there, and he was raising his wand into the air. Quirrel was cowering on the ground, begging for mercy while the face on the back of his head was screaming for vengeance.

Draco grabbed Harry's wrist, and time was frozen for just a moment.

And then, there was a flash of green light as Dumbledore cast  _Avada Kedavra,_ and Quirrel crumpled completely, dead in seconds flat. His Master's head melted away in a pile of black dust and goop.

Dumbledore then turned to look Draco and Harry in the eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, boys." He withdrew his wand and walked towards them. "Now, let's head up to my office, shall we? After all you've been through, I daresay you need a cup of tea."

* * *

Dumbledore's office was cozy, though overwhelmingly red. Draco thought it embodied what he imagined the Gryffindor common room to be like. A fire was burning in the corner, and while Dumbledore's tea was nice, it wasn't as comforting as Moony's.

In fact, Draco didn't think Dumbledore could ever be as comforting as Moony. He had just seen the man murder someone; he didn't think he could look at him as _comforting_ again.

"You got Hermione's owl, then?" Harry asked, his knees drawn up to his chest as he sat in one of the arm chairs. He had already handed over the Stone to Dumbledore, who had left it sitting vulnerable on his desk.

"It seemed to find me as I arrived," the Headmaster said cryptically. "I ended up where I was needed, however."

Draco snorted, which blew waves into his tea and splashed up against his nose, hitting him like hot, startling pinpricks. He set the tea down. "We might've died if not for you." 

"I doubt that." Dumbledore's bushy grey eyebrows shot up to crease his forehead. "In fact, I believe Harry could have killed him then and there. He had already begun to damage him."

Harry turned bright red. "How's that?"

"Your mother's magic, of course," Dumbledore answered, as if it were the clearest thing in the world. "Have Remus and Sirius not brought it up? Lily's love was what protected you the first time. It's certainly what saved you again." 

Harry knitted his eyebrows, and Draco watched him carefully. He had a feeling that Harry had been told a different story.

"Just like that?" Draco asked, incredulous. "We would have been fine?"

Dumbledore laughed cheerily. "Harry, perhaps. But Quirrel most certainly would have gotten to you." His tone was too chipper to be describing Draco's hypothetical death.

In fact, the Headmaster was being all to cheerful for someone who had just killed another human being. Draco was shaken up from just watching it happen.

Harry took a big swallow of tea. "But he's dead now? The Dark Lord, too?"

Dumbledore's face darkened momentarily. He picked up the stone and examined it. "Hopefully, this time around." 

Draco didn't believe it. But it was best not to press Dumbledore for things he wouldn't share.

"What will you do with the Stone?" he asked.

"Destroy it," Dumbledore answered curtly. "Such temptation cannot exist in this world. I am sure Nicolas Flamel will agree with me. He and I are great friends, you know."

He was doing it again. Washing out something important, something terrible sounding, with an innocent phrase like _he's my friend._

Draco felt affronted by the idea that such a powerful thing was just going to be destroyed. But he saw the Headmaster's point.

"But that is none of your concern," the old man continued. "We have more important things to discuss. Or, more relevant, rather."

It was at that moment that Draco felt as though he were about to retch. He remembered the amount of times he had been told not to go to the fourth floor, and yet they had. They were surely going to be punished.

"Don't punish Draco," Harry pleaded, before Draco was about to say the opposite statement. "Or Hermione. I made them come."

"Merlin's pants, Harry, you know that's a lie!" he snapped. "It was more my plan than yours, if you'll remember. I'm the one who should get in trouble."

They bickered on for a few moments, and Dumbledore watched them with an amused grin on his face. He clapped his hands once, and they both stopped at once.

"Now, neither of you are in trouble," he said smoothly. "In fact, your bravery is to be rewarded. I would not have expected such actions from two Slytherins."

Both Harry and Draco scowled at the remark.

"I think we both displayed typical Slytherin cunning," Draco insisted.

"Not to mention the way we stuck together!" Harry added. "Fraternity, isn't it?"

Draco rolled his eyes at the overuse of the word, but he couldn't help but grin.

Dumbledore looked perplexed for a moment, but he was not lost in stupor for long. "Of course, you're correct," he muttered. "No House points shall be removed, and nor will either of you recieve any personal punishments."

"And the reward?" Draco couldn't help but ask.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You'll learn soon enough." He stood up and pointed at the staircase leading out. "But for now, I think you two need to rest. You deserve it."

Draco nodded in agreement, suddenly feeling  _very_ tired. He blinked sleepily and got up. 

"Come on, Harry. Let's go."

After the day they'd had, Draco thought he could have slept for days.

_If only._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S ALMOST DONE.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The House Cup is awarded, and everyone goes home after an eventful first year.

Draco, unfortunately, was not able to sleep in the next three days. Instead, he and Harry were pestered by their dormmates about the event (which had apparently already circulated the school), as well as anyone else who saw them. Even the Gryffindors were asking questions. Weasley, for some reason, seemed particularly bitter about missing out.

They didn't answer many of the questions. Neither of them wanted to tell people that they had faced Voldemort  _and_ seen the death of their Defense teacher. But rumors were circulating around the school, and Dumbledore had instructed them to let it be. Soon, the questioning died out, and they were left alone by everyone.

Hermione had made it out safely, and the next day had greeted Draco and Harry with very intense hugs. She had apparently been very worried, and thought she had sent out the letter too late.

After all the events, Draco wrote home as soon as he could. He knew he would be seeing his family in a manner of days, but he had so much to let out before he forgot. He had been left feeling so unstable after everything, he hoped they would comfort him.

Harry had recieved a strict letter from Moony telling him he shouldn't have ever gone near the Fourth Floor, and that he was very disappointed in him, but there had been another owl from Padfoot congratulating them for their adventurous spirit.

Draco didn't feel adventurous, though. He felt like he wanted to forget the entire thing had happened.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. He had woken up the next morning proclaiming that it was a good day.

"Voldemort's gone, Quirrel's gone, the Stone is gone, and exams are over! We've nothing to worry about." His smile was bright as he got up, and Draco didn't notice the Squid was in the window until Harry pointed it out.

Blaise had cheered about it being a good omen for grades, finally having caught on, but for once, Draco was doubting the legitimacy of his little signs and omens. He was sour, nervous, and of course Harry had noticed. He tried to remedy it by reminding Draco that Voldemort was dead.

"Of course," Draco grumbled. "Because  _no one_ has come back after a killing curse before."

Harry, oblivious in his optimism, didn't even catch the sarcasm. 

A few days later, their grades were released. Draco couldn't help but feel smug as Blaise praised his Seeing abilities--Blaise had seen the Squid, and he  _had_ passed all his grades. Theo just rolled his eyes and muttered something about fish, not wanting to buy into Draco's stories.

Of course, Draco had done well on everything with an exception to Herbology, which he wasn't too surprised by. He had gotten top marks on his History of Magic exam, though, which only proved to him that Binns' teaching methods were so stale that he hadn't even taught the proctors well enough to know the difference.

Harry had done well, too, even in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, despite his unfortunate relationship with the teachers. He said that he was hoping his good marks would placate Moony's anger at his breaking the rules.

And then there was Hermione, who had  _of course_ gotten perfect marks. She hadn't boasted much about it, though her cheeks had gone bright red and she grinned like a lunatic when she talked to Draco about it. 

He found out that, remarkably, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe had both passed fairly well, and wouldn't be getting kicked out of the school. That disappointed Draco and Harry immensely, as the two other Slytherins snored too loudly and were terribly mean.

But it wasn't the worst of tragedies that had endured, and they managed to cope. They only had a few more days living in the dorms left anyway, and soon the school year would be over. 

On the last day before the Feast, they were mostly packed to go home for the summer, so they decided it wouldn't hurt to stroll around the castle one last time. When they did, they stumbled upon something most interesting. It was nothing hidden or secret, but it was certainly surprising.

It was Hourglasses represting House points, which they had of course seen before. But last time they had seen it, Slytherin had had the least amount of points. Now, it looked like it was the fullest.

"That was all you."

Gemma Farley was standing behind them, a bright smile on her face. She walked up to them and ruffled Harry's hair, and giving Draco a careful pat on the head. 

"Thanks," Harry murmured, his face gone red from embarrassment.

"For the first time, we were going to come in last," she remarked, chuckling. "But it looks like you came along and righted it. We're just about tied with Ravenclaw, as you can see."

Draco squinted at the Hourglasses, and realized with dismay that Hermione's House was just above theirs. Or perhaps he was just imagining it.

"Well, I can't wait till the Feast to see who won the Cup," he muttered, wondering if Slytherin would win for the seventh year in a row. 

Gemma winked at him. "Oh, I bet you it's Slytherin. Our House always wins."

* * *

The Great Hall was filled with excited chattering, mostly from the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. Hufflepuff seemed to have accepted thier fate, but they were all still jovial, excited for the end of the year. Gryffindor looked absolutely miserable, though, shooting glares at all the other tables.

The Weasley twins were the only ones not looking terribly miserable, though. They were smirking and whispering to each other. They looked as though they had some sort of sinister plan, but that was typical for them.

Draco sat between Blaise and Harry, Theo across from him. Surrounded by friends on all sides, he felt secure. He didn't mind joining in the banter and the cheer at the table. It was hard not to--even Parkinson was joining in, smiling and laughing and not sneering at anyone.

And then the entire hall was hushed as Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands, gathering everyone's attention.

"What an exciting year it's been!" he exclaimed, scanning the hall with a neutral expression, which turned remorseful as he continued. "Of course, it was not without tragedy. Most of you have probably heard rumors about recent events with our Defense teacher, Professor Quirrel. A misguided attempt to steal something important left him severly injured, and he is now recovering at St. Mungo's. He will not be returning." The Headmaster's voice taught, and there was a quiet murmuring in the Hall.

Draco exchanged a glance with Harry. They both knew that Quirrel was not in St. Mungo's. He was dead, and the Headmaster was lying about it.

"But on to happier things!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "The House Cup, what you've all been waiting for. You may have noticed that we have reached a bit of a tie this year, due to some last minute points awarded. I will take a minute to address those."

Draco tried to duck his head, but he didn't want to seem to obvious. He and Harry just smirked at each other, and they caught Hermione's eye from the Ravenclaw table. They wouldn't be mad at her if her House won, and they knew she wouldn't be mad if theirs did.

No matter which House won, their friendship mattered more--especially after everything they had been through.

"First, I would like to congratulate two particular Slytherin first years, for their unexpected show of bravery. I would like them to know I hope they both maintain this particular virtue," the Headmaster said, sending a wink in the general direction of the Slytherin table. "Of course, they both also displayed cunning and smart self interest, that may have saved them in the end. Not to mention their admirable demonstration of fraternity, which I should hope that the rest of their House takes as a model."

He didn't end up announcing their names, but everyone already knew. Draco felt Blaise elbow him in the ribs, and Theo was grinning at him. A few of the girls in Parkinson's friend group sent him friendly winks.

"Each of them earned Slytherin forty points, for a total of eighty. This brought Slytherin up to three hundred and seventy-five points." 

There was a loud cheering from the Slytherin table and the stomping of feet. Draco clapped along with everyone else; three hundred seventy-five was a big number.

"And then," the Headmaster continued, "there was Ravenclaw. There was also an awarding of sixty points, on the account of one first year. She displayed true bravery and a sense of right and wrong when she chose to assist the two students of Slytherin House in their act of heroism. She also proved to be brilliantly logical in the face of fire--as well as earning a perfect score on her exams. This brings Ravenclaw up to a remarkable four hundred and twelve points!"

The Ravenclaw table burst into applause for Hermione before Dumbledore could continue, and Draco saw the girl bury her head on the table. She had probably burst into tears. One of her friends was clapping her on the back, and another had flung their arms around her.

The Slytherin table was grumbing, and Draco and Harry were the only ones clapping. It was clear that they had lost.

"Settle down, settle down." Dumbledore clapped his hands again, and gradually, everyone grew silent. He took a moment of silence, glancing around the Hall. "And now, I would like to announce the winning House." He procured a piece of paper--as if he needed it--and began to read off of it.

"Gryffindor comes in last, with two hundred and eighty-three points. Hufflepuff in second with three hundred and fifty-eight."

There was some muted applause from the Hufflepuff table, and some boos and groans from Gryffindor.

"Slytherin comes in second at three hundred and seventy-five. And, lastly, Ravenclaw wins, with four hundred and twelve!" 

There was loud cheering, and the banners in the Great Hall all turned blue and bronze in honor of Ravenclaw. Once the cheering subsided, however, something curious happened.

The banners began to slowly change colors, starting with the bronze, coiling into a bright orange color. A confused silence filled the Hall, and suddenly, the banners had gone bright orange.

In honor of the Chudley Cannons, no less, their emblem proudly adorning the Great Hall. 

All eyes turned to the Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table, who were both struggling to keep straight faces.

In a moment, though, Dumbledore began to laugh good-naturedly, and all the students began to, as well. It got especially raucous when Filch turned bright red and tried to stamp towards the perpetrators, and Professor McGonagall had to run after him to stop him.

It was a satisfying conclusion to the year, Draco thought.

* * *

The next day, the dorms were emptied out, and all their bags were packed. They all walked down to the train with good cheer.

Draco and Harry hung back to chat with Hagrid, who was blubbering apologies for letting Quirrel get past Fluffy, but was tremendously happy that they had turned out alright. Harry had assured him it was alright, and they had both hugged the giant goodbye before boarding the train.

They shared a compartment with Blaise and Theo on the way back, and Hermione had even stopped by to visit them for a while.

There was laughter and candy and staring back at the passing green scenery. Summer was upon them, and it was a gorgeous sight. Draco felt as though he didn't have a single worry in the world, enjoying his last few hours of being away from home with his friends.

Shortly after they had all changed out of their school robes, Draco had been surprised by each of them pulling parcels out of their robes pockets.

"For your birthday," Blaise told him, "in case we don't see you until later."

Draco had gone pink from surprise. His birthday was only a few days away, and he was flattered his friends had all remembered.

"Wait till your birthday to open it, though!" Hermione told him before leaving for her own compartment. "And owl me when you do!"

"I'm sure we'll see each other soon, though," Theo added, handing over his own parcel. "Mother wants to meet with your family, if they won't mind. She wants to thank your father for, er, well..." He trailed off, looking embarrassed.

Draco smiled at him, understanding. He remembered Snape saying that Theo's father had been rather horrible, and it was Draco's father's testimony that had gotten him arrested.

"I'll tell them."

"And I'll see you soon, too!" Harry exclaimed.

"You better," Draco growled teasingly. A summer without Harry wouldn't feel like a proper summer at all.

When the train rolled to a stop, Harry and Draco got off the train together. Padfoot and Moony were waiting for Harry, and they weren't too far away from Draco's parents.

"You think Moony's still mad at you?" Draco whispered as they walked over.

"We'll see in a second," Harry muttered.

He didn't have anything to worry about, though, besides public humilation. Both Padfoot and Moony practically tackled Harry with a bear hug, and Draco was left watching to the side. He let them be, though, as he went to greet his parents.

He didn't even hesitate when he hugged each of them, earning a pleasant smile.

"I'm glad to see you're still not ashamed to hug me in public," Father chuckled into his ear.

"Well, you're not nearly as bad as Harry's dads," Draco replied, pulling away to kiss Mother on the cheek.

"How was the year, Draco?" she inquired neutrally, probably unwilling to discuss the gritty details in public. "From your letter, it sounded most eventful." There was a steely look in her eye that made Draco think that she wasn't pleased with the events that happened beneath Hogwarts.

"Yes, indeed," Father said, taking Draco's hand as Mother began to shrink his luggage. "I am most eager to hear more about Headmaster Dumbledore and his...  _actions."_

"I'll tell you when we get home," Draco promised. He stopped walking to wave goodbye at Harry, who was eagerly chattering with his dads. With them was Neville, and a man who was probably his father.

"Bye, Harry!" Draco called. Feeling obligated after nearly saving his life, he added a, "Goodbye, Neville!" 

The Gryffindor turned bright red but waved at him sheepishly. Harry looked away from Padfoot and ran towards him. Before Draco could react, Harry was violently hugging him goodbye.

"Bye, Draco," he said. "I'll see you very soon."

Draco shoved him off and grinned at him. "You better keep that promise," he teased him again.

"Always," Harry answered.

And then, they said one last quick goodbye, and Draco was Apparating back to the Manor with his parents. He wondered how eventful his summer could possibly be, after such an exciting year away at school.

He supposed his life couldn't be too short of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for the first book! I hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned for the next book in the series, where we explore the fact that Harry is a Parseltongue.
> 
> Thanks for all your support! Leave a comment if you like, and tell me what you thought. :D


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